Family is King
by Scotch-Irish Rose
Summary: When the return of the spell threatens to tear the royal family apart and a sinister pair of newcomers plan to seize the throne, the clan DunBroch must strengthen their bond and defend their kingdom before it's too late.
1. Chapter 1: The Missing Monarch

Chapter One

* * *

Fergus, though she loved him with all her heart, was most definitely a man that had a natural ability to irk the queen. Within one day, he had wandered off without her knowledge, and missed an important session involving their diplomatic duties. Now, on top of all that, the king was late for an occasion he _never _missed – dinner.

"Where_ is_ he? Where on earth _is _that man?" the queen demanded, speaking to no one in particular. She paced back in forth before the roaring fireplace, her children observing her wearily, their stomachs grumbling with anticipation.

"Mum, why don't ye take yer seat?" Merida advised, resting her elbow on the table and propping her head up. Elinor swiveled around to face her daughter, exhaling anxiously.

"It's just not like yer father to be late for dinner. In fact, he's never missed a meal in the near twenty years we've been in union." she mused worriedly, darting her eyes between her children, their eyes glinting with expectant glances. She sighed once more, shaking her head in affirmation. "I'm sorry, my dears, but we simply can't begin without yer father."

The triplets groaned in frustration, folding their arms and dropping their heads to the table with a series of impatient noises. Elinor began to pace the floor once more, and her daughter gazed at her mother with empathy.

"Mum, wearin' a hole in the floor isn't goin' to make Dad appear any sooner." she spoke, and the restless queen tapped her foot while gazing into the crackling flames of the hearth.

Her Fergus was not one to be negligent with mealtimes, and he knew well that she worried a great deal about him whenever he was absent without at least having one of his men send word to her. She constantly required knowledge of where he was, what he was doing, and when he would be home. If she had no idea of what had become of him, she would most assuredly be sick with worry, so he certainly knew better than to neglect to inform her of his whereabouts. He desperately wished to avoid a severe reprimanding and lecture from his wife in the privacy of their bedchamber, not to mention the fact that she was in no mood to engage in his favorite activity in that particular room if she was flustered or upset with him. She banished these thoughts from her mind, nodding with a slight reluctance.

"Perhaps ye're right, Merida." she said, though she was unable to entirely shake the thoughts of her husband that preoccupied her mind from her subconscious. The queen hesitated for a moment before retreating to her seat at the end of the table, glancing guiltily at her children.

Hubert's mouth began to water over the food on his plate, and began poking at his plate with his fork. He frowned as his mother shook her head.

"No, darling." she scolded, sighing as her son began to pout.

It was astounding how much her children resembled her husband, though it was quite plausible, as he was indeed their father. A troublesome thought crossed the queen's mind – was her king being entirely faithful to her? Was there perhaps another lady he was seeing behind her back? No, that was outrageously absurd. The love they shared was unlike any she'd ever been familiar with. He showered her with unabated affection, often so zealously she had to intervene _during _their intimacy, tenderly asking him to calm himself and regain his composure before he grew too excited and spiraled out of control, a prospect Elinor shuddered at, especially considering how much her husband dwarfed her. A man as large as Fergus losing control was something she wished to avoid at all costs.

In addition to being devoted and tender lovers (her pregnancy with Harris, Hubert, and Hamish came as quite a surprise to the Clan DunBroch), she and her husband were the best of friends and also trusted confidants. Though it often irritated her, he had an uncanny ability to be able to sense whatever was on her mind, most likely due to the fact that the royal couple spent so much time together.

There was absolutely no chance her Fergus was being unfaithful to her. In fact, she was ashamed the thought even crossed her mind for a brief second.

Maudie scurried into the great hall at this moment, bowing respectfully to the queen.

"M'lady, I hate to pry, but I'm afraid yer dinner will become rather cold and spoiled if the king doesn't arrive presently. Did he happen to tell ye where he was off to on this evening?" she inquired of the queen. Elinor's amber eyes filled with concern once more, and she shook her head.

"Unfortunately no, Maudie, and I'm growin' quite concerned." she replied reluctantly, glancing at the doors to the hall expectantly, hoping to witness her husband saunter into the room at that very moment.

"My good queen, I suggest ye begin. Now, I don't want to worry ye, but the king's men arrived from their training long ago," the nursemaid sighed. Elinor's face began to grow pale as she gazed at the empty spot at the table set for her husband, and in an effort to assuage the distressed queen, Maudie hastily interjected, "Oh, Yer Majesty, I'm sure our great king has just become distracted! You, of all people, must be aware of how his mind wanders!"

Maudie fumbled with her hands as the queen nodded slightly, and the nursemaid gestured towards the plates of food perched upon the oak table with a nod. Merida raised her fork as she made a motion to shovel food into her mouth, glancing at her mother as a pair of amber eyes gazed at her. The princess sighed wearily, setting her fork back upon the table.

"I am terribly sorry, my loves, but it just doesn't seem right without..."

The queen was interrupted by the swinging of the doors to the great hall, and her amber orbs, though they brightened significantly, narrowed as Fergus traipsed into the room, casually and informally. The guards keeping watch at the doors shut them securely as the king passed through, greeting them with a swift nod. He made his way around the table, kissing the heads of each of his children and his wife's cheek before retreating to his end of the table. As he slid into his seat, grinning at the platter before him, his azure eyes widened eagerly.

"Maudie, ye never cease to amaze me, lass! I'm starvin'! Worked up quite an appetite today, so I did!" he rambled excitedly, beginning to wolf down his food in humongous mouthfuls.

"I'm flattered, Sire," the plump nursemaid replied with a respectful bow, lifting a tall, glass bottle of wine from the table and revealing it to the king, who nodded vigorously.

"So, my dear," Elinor began, bringing the rim of her chalice of wine to her lips as Maudie poured the king his own beverage, "what _exactly _were ye up to?"

Fergus raised his head and glanced sheepishly at his wife from across the table before taking a swig of his liquor.

"Wh-what's that now, Eli?" he asked, darting his eyes to his sons as they began to snicker, knowing their father was beginning to wind himself into an intricate bind, of which he would be unable to escape.

"Ye heard me, Fergus." the queen replied calmly before repeating, "What activities did ye engage in today? Naturally, ye won't hesitate to inform yer wife and children of where ye were, will ye? I, and our children, would like to know." she said, gesturing to Merida and the triplets, who sported expectant glances.

"'Course not, Elinor! Yes, well... erm..." he stammered, placing his hand nervously upon the nape of his neck. "I-I was just tendin' to some things. Nothin' that would interest that pretty wee head of yers."

He grinned suavely at her, though Elinor was determined not to allow his charm to woo her. She was adamant on teaching him a lesson, though she couldn't stay angry with him for long.

"I do wish ye would have thought to inform me of where ye were. I was rather worried." she said, softening her gaze. Her amber eyes expressed such love and concern that the king's heart swelled at that very moment.

"Och, ye worry about me too much, love." he scoffed, quirking a brow at her. "I was just preparin' for the harvest, that's all."

"Oh, really?" the queen inquired with a raise of her brows, entirely unconvinced.

"Aye, dearest. I'd never lie to ye." he responded sincerely. His children were observing their mother and father with watchful yet amused gazes, and he cleared his throat and chuckled innocently.

"Is that so?" she replied, slicing her knife daintily through the smoked trout on her plate, a dish she'd grown accustomed to since her short time as a bear. "That's quite curious, as the harvest doesn't begin for some time, Fergus." she mentioned, fixing her gaze upon him and locking her eyes with his. He shifted nervously in his seat.

"Oh, aye! Of course! I do suppose ye're correct as always, darlin'!" he chuckled, clearing his throat anxiously. "It doesn't hurt to get started a wee bit early though, don't ye agree?"

He began chugging the liquid out of his chalice, unable to escape his wife's fixated gaze.

"I suppose," the queen replied slowly yet suspiciously, still wary of her husband's motives.

"Angus and I set a new personal record today during our ride!" Merida boasted proudly, smiling as her father beamed at her. "Ye're speakin' to the fastest archer in the Highlands."

"That's my lass!" her father praised. "I was quite a rider when I was yer age. Yer mum can attest to that, can't ye, love?" he said to his wife, who managed a slight, sentimental smile despite her qualms.

"Aye. Though ye could've broken every bone in yer body on a number of occasions, Fergus." she professed, dabbing her mouth with her napkin. She darted her eyes to her sons, who were shoving tarts into their mouths at an expeditious rate. "Boys, what have I told ye about stuffing yer gobs with dessert before ye finish yer dinner?"

The three princes glanced guiltily at their mother before turning to their father for aid.

"Och, let them be just this once, dear." he said, regarding his sons fondly. "What's the worst that could happen?" he asked, responding to his rhetorical question as he continued, "Just a wee stomach ache, is all."

The queen sighed in defeat as she gazed at her sons.

"Very well, then. But, don't expect me to have sympathy for any of ye if ye're up all night with the collywobbles."

The boys began devouring their desserts once more, and the king chuckled as the queen shook her head in disapproval.


	2. Chapter 2: A Grave Mistake

Chapter Two**  
**

* * *

In the midst of the twilight hours, the chill of the castle's hallways were unusually brisk – more so than usual. The flickering glow of the torches decking the halls were the sole sources of light in the corridors, and may the deities above have mercy on you if the torches began to dim while there was no extra candle on your person.

The past few nights had come and gone with an abnormally eerie aura accompanying them, and though the occasional shadows creeping along the castle walls may well have been another one of the triplets' bouts of mischief, or perhaps a trick of one's mind, few inhabitants of the castle DunBroch were willing to venture through the hallways without a companion or one of the royal family's trusty Scottish deerhounds at their side.

* * *

On a night such as this, Queen Elinor would normally curl up in her bed with a pleasurable read, listening to the crackle of the hearth heating the room as she gained the great satisfaction with each turn of a page. Her king would imminently retreat to her side, and, with a rumbling yawn and tender embrace, quickly fall into a deep slumber.

However, the queen, though she had been increasingly carefree and relaxed since her transformation, was extremely pensive and distant on this occasion. Her mind was plagued with uncomfortable thoughts she'd rather not have cross her mind; these were notions that made her quite uneasy, indeed.

* * *

Elinor felt a pair of arms snake around her waist as she combed out her hair, her neck being tickled as her husband's mustache came into contact with her skin. She set her brush upon her dresser, studying herself in the mirror as the king rested his hands upon her stomach.

"Fergus, I hope ye know I'm still upset with ye," she said, trying to ignore the fluttering in her stomach as her husband kissed her. She pressed, "Fergus, did ye hear me?"

"Hm?" he grunted, burying his face in her flowing locks and nuzzling them, breathing in her scent.

"Fergus, I do wish ye'd listen to me." she said in a slightly irritated tone, wriggling out of his grasp and retreating to their inviting bed.

"I'm sorry, love. But," he said, grinning charmingly at her, "I only got to kiss yer cheek earlier, and there are a few other places on ye I'd like to be reacquainted with, and soon."

The queen's mouth threatened to curve into a smile at her consort's boyish attempts to woo her into seduction, but she was determined to get a straight answer out of her husband, whether he readily complied or not. There were plenty of things she could withhold from him, including what he desired at that moment.

"Fergus, we need to have a wee chat." she replied vaguely, folding her arms over her bosom.

Her husband's blue eyes appeared to show a trace of apprehension, and her narrowed amber orbs tritely locked with his. He sighed and took his place beside her, focusing his attention upon his queen.

"Aye, dear. Whatever ye wish." he said wearily, complying with her demands.

Her face glowed with satisfaction. He was being quite cooperative, at least. Hopefully, he had little to hide, after all - perhaps even nothing at all.

"Now, then. Be a grand lad. Humor me," she said, allowing her chestnut locks to spill over her shoulders, "and tell me what the Bear King's endeavors were on this fine day. Ye shan't hide anythin' from me, Fergus."

Her tresses pooled in her lap as her king began to stutter. Feeling her patience begin to diminish, Elinor allowed her gaze to fall upon her husband's kilt. Her amber eyes widened at the conspicuous tear in the tartan fabric, which, surprisingly, she hadn't taken note of until then.

"Fergus, what on _earth_...?" she huffed as she scooted closer to him, grasping his garment in her hands. "When did this happen?" she demanded, locking eyes with him. "This is yer good kilt, dear!"

"I know, Eli, I know." he sighed, slightly ashamed. "I'm sorry, love. Ye know how rough the lads and I can get in our trainin'. We spent a short time practicin' before we arrived home."

Elinor raised her head from her fixated gaze on his kilt, which she or Maudie would surely have to mend. She furrowed her brow.

"...and this happened _earlier today?" _she inquired, receiving an affirmative nod from her husband. She folded her arms and glared into his eyes. "That's odd. Maudie informed me that yer men arrived long before _you _did." His blue eyes grew anxious under his wife's cold stare, her amber orbs flaring with distrust.

"Oh, sh-she did...?" the king stammered.

"_And," _she continued, holding up her hand as he began to stutter once more. "I thought ye told me ye were plannin' for the harvest."

"Eli, please..." Fergus moaned as his wife turned her back to him. She turned her head slightly with a soft sniff.

"Fergus, why must ye lie to me? Is there somethin' ye just can't afford to allow me to be aware of?"

"No, Elinor! _Of course _not!" he replied quickly, placing a hand on his wife's shoulder. "I don't keep _anything _from ye!"

"Then what, Fergus?" she snapped, spinning around. "There's obviously _something _ye're keepin' from me now!"

"I'm sorry, dear, I just..."

"Fergus, until ye're prepared to tell me the truth," she said, brushing a stray tear rolling down her cheek, "I believe it's best that ye sleep somewhere else for the night."

"Darlin', please..." he pleaded, but his wife simply pointed to the door. He sighed, leaning in to kiss his queen, and to his anguish, she turned her head away from him. He settled on a kiss to the cheek, tenderly caressing her face. "I'm sorry I hurt ye, Elinor." he apologized, whispering shakily, _"I love ye. I'll always love ye, no matter what happens." _

He trudged reluctantly to the door as Elinor allowed herself to fall back upon their bed, resting her head upon one of the plump pillows as tears readily began flowing down her cheeks.

As the king walked slowly down the corridor, wallowing in his own guilt, Merida poked her head out of her bedroom, instantly donning a concerned expression.

"Dad?" she whispered, her father halting abruptly.

"Aye, darlin'. Go back to bed, Merida."

"Where are ye goin', Dad? Is everything alright?" the princess pressed, cocking her head slightly, her red mop of curls draping over her shoulders.

"Aye, yer Mum and I are just... we just had a disagreement, that's all." he sighed wearily, continuing his trek down the hallway. "Good night."

"Dad, where are ye goin'?" Merida called once more as her father still walked, not bothering to look back at his concerned daughter. She was extremely tempted to pursue him, but abiding by her father's wishes, she closed her bedroom door quietly, for fear of awakening her brothers. She slowly walked back to bed, contemplating the events that just occurred.

Her mother and father had had some sort of a quarrel, of that she was certain. But, why? Though her parents often had petty disagreements, they rarely argued, and they certainly never spent a night away from each other. Merida assumed the spat had something to do with the fact her father had neglected to inform her mother of his pursuits earlier in the day. Or, perhaps it was the fact that he had been late to dinner; the queen always believed that being punctual was a necessity. Though, her mother hadn't seemed irked over that matter, but rather that the king was remiss in letting her know when he'd arrive home from his duties. The princess knew her mother had been sick with worry, as she rightly should have been. Her father was rather eccentric, and had a habit to regularly put himself in danger, though Merida never feared for his safety. Fergus, The Bear King, was an expert marksman. He had control over every situation he faced; he battled a demon bear for heaven's sake, and had the peg leg to prove it.

Still, it was natural for her mother to be concerned for her father, as their love was quite obvious. Though they tried to hide their passion, and though the queen frowned upon putting on a display, her father often managed to sneak a kiss or two when he thought his children weren't around. And, due to this fact, the tense relations that had suddenly developed between her parents vexed Merida to no end.

She crawled under the assorted quilts and blankets upon her bed and lay on her back, gazing at the ceiling as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, recovering from the flickering lights of the torches in the corridor. Something had been on her father's mind. He seemed tense, anxious, unsettled. His voice had been void of the usual emotion it possessed. Yes, something was definitely wrong. Merida sighed wearily, attempting to shake away the worrying thoughts plaguing her mind, prying at her subconscious. Her father had just been downcast because he had a fight with her mother, his beloved wife, that was all.

"I have nothin' to worry about," Merida yawned, rolling over and burying her face in her soft, fluffy pillow.

Mere moments later, her blue eyes popped open. She could no longer suppress the severe sense of foreboding she felt. _Something _was _wrong. _She had to do _something. _Her father's eyes, usually bright, blue and clear, were clouded and filled with evident sadness. But there had been something else contained within his weary orbs – and that was fear. _Fear. _Her father, The Bear King, had been afraid. _Her father, afraid? Fearful? _It wasn't just the argument that bothered him – it had been something else. Her father was confident of his abilities to charm her mother; that wouldn't have unsettled him. The king had been afraid, and _that _was _not _a normal emotion for _her _father.

Merida blinked several times, allowing this all to sink in. She peeled back the covers and bolted out of bed in a tizzy, grabbing the doorknob and yanking the door open. Bounding down the hallway, her bare feet smacked against the cold, stone floor. When she reached her parents' bedchamber, she hesitated for a moment. It had to be done. She had to tell her mother. Knocking quickly and repeatedly, she waited in the silence.

Her mother's voice emanated from the room, inviting her inside. Merida swung the door open anxiously and immediately rushed to her mother's bedside.

"Merida, darling, what's wrong?" Elinor asked, her voice brimming with concern. Her amber eyes, Merida took note of, were slightly reddened, as if she'd been crying. Though the queen could have easily used the entire mattress to sleep upon, she kept to her side, preserving her husband's turned down half of the bed.

"M-mum, s-s-somethin's terribly wrong," Merida stammered, her voice choking up with emotion. Her mother sat up in bed, her face wild with frantic worry.

"What is it, dear?" she inquired anxiously. "Tell me!"

"It's Dad, Mum," Merida blurted, tears threatening in her blue eyes. "I-I have a feelin' he's in some sort of trouble."

"Wh-what?" the queen asked, grasping one of her daughter's hands. "What is this ye speak of? What about yer father?" she pressed, still harboring slightly ill feelings toward her husband.

"I saw him... in the corridor... Mum, somethin' was off about him." Merida repeated, tugging at her mother's hand.

"Merida..." Elinor murmured in an attempt to soothe her daughter. This was utter nonsense. Fergus was completely fine, asleep in the castle... wasn't he?

"_Mum, Dad is in trouble!" _Merida exclaimed urgently and fearfully. "We _must _do somethin'!" Elinor remained silent for a moment before sighing.

"If we check up on yer father, will that calm ye down?" she asked, being responded to with a fierce tug of her hand.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed, planting her feet firmly upon the floor. She slid on a pair of her slippers and rose to her feet, gasping as her daughter propelled her to the door with a forceful pull.

"Merida!" she exclaimed as her daughter relentlessly led her down the hall, squeezing her hand. Finally, the queen managed to pull her hand out of the princess' grip. She halted, gathering her composure with several deep breaths.

"C'mon, Mum! We haven't the time!" Merida said anxiously. The worried princess began calling her father's name, her voice echoing throughout the castle and reverberating.

"_Merida!" _Elinor whispered harshly. "Are ye tryin' to wake the dead?"

The queen's heart fell at the choice of words used in her statement; she _did _hope her daughter was mistaken, and that nothing had befallen her dear husband. Forgetting about the possibility of awakening her sons and the servants, she began to join her daughter in the calling of her king's name, her qualms becoming more and more severe by the passing seconds.

The triplets emerged from their bedroom, rubbing the sleep from their eyes and glancing about. Maudie emerged from her room as well, yawning.

"Is everythin' well, Yer Highness?" she inquired, and the queen's amber eyes, hysterical in her frantic state, locked with the nursemaid's.

"I fear not, Maudie. I fear not." she replied with painful concern, pausing to call her husband's name once more. Maudie walked up to the anxiety-ridden ruler. The queen swiveled around to face her. "Maudie, please put the boys back to bed. The king appears to be..." she said quietly, trailing off. "F-Fergus appears to be missing. Do not speak a word of this to them, understood?" The nursemaid nodded quickly in affirmation and hastily obliged.

"Mum, I'm scared." Merida admitted as she and her mother continued with their search.

"I am, as well. It's goin' to be fine, darling, ye'll see." Elinor replied, though she was unsure of what exactly would happen next. She cupped her hands around her mouth, calling frantically, _"Fergus, dear! If ye can hear me, please return to me!" _

Few times in her life had she found a request so desirable. Truly, she slept much better with her husband at her side. She knew she was entirely safe in his arms, but now, she surely wasn't feeling secure.

She called the king's name numerous times, until she felt as if she would lose her voice. A queen could hardly rule without the ability to speak, but her husband's safety was _much _more important to her. _Where _was he? In the midst of her frenzy, something occurred to her – something painfully foreboding. The last words he uttered to her, after she had avoided romantic contact with him (which, now, she regretted) were: '_I'll always love ye, no matter what happens.' _As she reflected back upon this, she realized that he had said this so sincerely, though she had paid little to no mind to this statement when it first escaped his lips.

At her mother's sudden bout of silence, Merida whispered with concern, "M-Mum?"

Elinor turned to her daughter, tears welling in her eyes.

"Merida," she began, her voice choking up with emotion. "I'm afraid I've made a grave mistake."


	3. Chapter 3: Confide in Her

Chapter Three

* * *

Waiting. Waiting was all she could do. The queen sat in her bed, motionless, her eyes tear-stained after copious amounts of water flowed from them. She had no tears left to cry, as her eyes were thoroughly dried and void of moisture. Merida had retired to bed long ago, having cried herself to sleep in her solitude. Elinor, on the other hand, was unable to sleep. Though she occasionally dozed, she never slipped fully into unconsciousness, although she wished she could. Perhaps being unconscious would take some of the pain away, some of the guilt she harbored over forcing her husband to leave. He would be safe in bed with her had she not been so cruel towards him. She cried again; though she produced nor shed any tears.

By the time the wee hours of morning had arrived, she was unable to function properly, afflicted with sheer, enduring exhaustion. There was no feasible way she would be able to perform a single queenly duty that was on her agenda on this day, no matter how facile the task may be. The painstaking hours had monotonously crept by as she lamented, wallowing on her own guilt, which had been brought on by her foolish actions alone.

Her daughter had been correct in her assumption; she had believed that her father had been in danger, and now the queen's worst fears had come true. Would she ever lay eyes upon her beloved husband again? That, she didn't know. Only time could tell whether or not they would be reunited and if the monarchy would be preserved.

Her anxious, pensive thoughts gave way, making way for the fatigue and stronger exhaustion slowly but surely settled upon her. The wave of weariness was beginning to consume her, and she mindlessly grasped the king's pillow in her hands, proceeding to rip back the quilts concealing his half of the mattress. Elinor shoved the pillow underneath and smoothed the coverlets, simulating Fergus' large form, as if he were once again by her side. Feeling minutely soothed, her head, as if being weighed down by an immeasurable amount of force, fell upon her pillow, and her body succumbed to slumber.

* * *

In the hours that followed, her sleep was peppered with horrendous nightmares. Every now and then, the occurrences happening rather sporadically, she would bolt upright, jolting awake in an unpleasant, cold sweat. As her chest rose and fell with heavy, raspy breaths, she found that her amber eyes had been sufficiently supplied with yet another collection of tears, and the drops began to roll down her cheeks as she cried and lamented silently.

Just as she began to close her eyes once more, her daughter entered, trudging weakly to her mother's bedside. She had noticeable bags under her fatigued, blue eyes, and Elinor placed a hand upon her daughter's cheek, caressing it tenderly.

"Merida, my darling, I understand ye're concerned about yer father, as am I, but I won't have ye fallin' ill as a result of not gettin' a restful night's sleep." the queen said with concern in her voice.

All of a sudden, a shrill voice echoed through the halls – a quiet joyful and enthusiastic one, at that.

"Our king has returned!" the voice shrieked, and mere moments later, Maudie, huffing and out of breath, her cheeks tinged with color, poked her head through the doorway.

Merida and Elinor exchanged puzzled glances, and as Maudie pushed the door open wider, their faces brightened joyously at the sight of their beloved father and husband, respectively. The king strode into the room, being greeted by hugs from his daughter and kisses from his wife.

"Good mornin', lasses," he said cheerfully albeit quietly, wrapping his arms around the queen and princess.

"_Where have you been?" _Elinor pressed aggressively as her husband pulled her tighter against his form. As he shrugged his shoulders, she continued, "Fergus, don't think ye're goin' to charm me out of this kerfuffle ye've gotten yerself into. You and I _will _be discussin' this, I assure ye." She glared icily at him, though felt her heart lift at the adoring gaze he responded to her with, completely unfazed at her previous statement.

"Whatever ye say, love." he said, pressing his lips to her forehead.

"Dad, we were worried sick about ye!" Merida exclaimed, laughing joyously as her father lifted her into a tight embrace, her feet dangling just above the ground.

Elinor admired her husband and daughter as they rejoiced, though she was still suspicious. Her husband was never so negligent as to allow his family to fret over him, and his behavior was an unusual anomaly. She planned on interrogating him, once they were alone, and this time, she would _not _allow him to dismiss her.

* * *

Night steadily fell over the kingdom. What with everyone tucked away into their beds, including herself, Elinor found this to be an opportune time to question her king.

"A gatherin' with the other lords?" she said with suspicion, glancing at him incredulously as she mended the tear in his kilt, which he had somehow managed to tear even further. "At _night?" _

Though she was still skeptical, this prospect eased her qualms much more than the possibility of her husband having a secret mistress. She felt a sense of complete revival.

"Yes, love." he confirmed, kissing her forehead. "We held a late meetin', and by the time we were finished, it had grown awfully late. Lord MacGuffin suggested I stay for the night. Besides, I didn't want to risk wakin' ye if I came in the middle of the night. The queen needs her rest."

She was humbled at his thoughtfulness, and decided to accept his explanation. Her husband _did _have a habit of enjoying his drink, so Lord MacGuffin's invite was plausible, especially if Fergus had been a bit tipsy.

She gripped the needle as her blood boiled with jealousy at the thought of the king having a mistress. He would sneak off at night, and inconspicuously return to their room after several hours while she slept, causing her to be none the wiser. And, how long would this facade would go on without her knowing? She would have been so naïve regarding his endeavors. But, alas, no. She was terribly guilty that the suspicions she had harbored about her husband had ever dared to cross her mind. Nevertheless, he'd have had the lass' head if there _had _been another woman.

Elinor jumped as the needle she was handling pricked her finger, quietly releasing an interjection in a sharp whisper. The king gently took her hand and lightly kissed the tip of her index finger.

"Did ye hurt yerself?" he inquired with concern. The queen hastily shook her head, pulling her hand away and holding up her husband's garment, examining her work in the dimming candlelight.

She had to eradicate these foolish thoughts. Her king would never betray her. They'd been married for close to twenty years, and he hadn't failed her yet.

Fergus nodded in approval with a quirk of his brow. "Very nice, lass." he marveled, leaning in to kiss her shoulder.

"I do wish ye'd sent word, I didn't sleep a wink without ye beside me." she professed as she rose from the bed, folding the kilt and sliding it into the bottom drawer of her dresser. As soon as she returned to the bed, he gently kissed her lips. She accepted his affection wholeheartedly as he cradled the back of her head with his hand. He kissed her mouth gently several times, resulting in a pleasant chill to the queen and causing her to shudder ever so slightly.

"Ye're warm enough, aren't ye?" he asked, smiling as his wife nodded. He continued apologetically with a kiss to her forehead, "I'm sorry, love. I didn't intend to worry ye. I didn't sleep all that well myself."

"Never mind, love. Ye're home now." she whispered, stroking his face. The king and queen drifted off together, the love growing stronger between them by the passing moments.

* * *

Queen Elinor, who had been sleeping soundly up to this moment, was awakened by the groaning of the mattress beneath her as her husband attempted to inconspicuously slide out from beneath their bedspread.

"Fergus?" she whispered nearly inaudibly in sheer confusion.

Her heart jumped with fear at the sight of him attempting to sneak out. Did he not know how this was affecting her? It wasn't like him to be untruthful to her. In the midst of her preoccupied thoughts, he lifted her hand and kissed it tenderly.

"I'll be back, Eli, love. I promise ye." he replied hastily in a low, gravelly tone. The weary queen, still recovering from her lack of sleep, sat up anxiously.

"Where are ye goin'?" she pressed with worry, peeling back the covers in a motion to follow him. She couldn't let him get away again.

"No, Elinor. Stay in bed, love." he said firmly.

At the sound of this abrupt order, the queen clenched her fists. Fergus had another lady; there was no doubting that fact now. How she would handle it – well, that was an entirely different predicament. Though she felt the overwhelming urge to rush up to him and pound her fists angrily upon his solid chest, her tears were a much abler force.

"There _is _another woman, isn't there?" she exclaimed fiercely, tears glimmering at the corners of her eyes. Fergus spun around as he was making his way towards the door, hurrying to their bedside without hesitation and embracing her in a hug.

"No, Elinor! _No! _Get that idea out of yer head at once!" he insisted, pulling her closer. She wriggled out of his grasp, glaring at him stonily, fighting with all of her willpower to avoid breaking down. "_You _are the _only _lady I could _ever _love." he stated firmly, kissing away the tears now rolling down her cheeks. "I don't _ever _want to hear ye say that again. Do you understand me?"

Her face donned an expression of puzzlement at his affirmation, which, to her surprise was slightly petulant. He was never cross with her – in fact, she was much more firm with him than he was with her. Sometimes she believed he actually _feared _her, though the respect he held for her was evident.

"Then _what, _Fergus? Why are ye bein' so secretive? Ye're _never _home, ye leave yer family worried sick about ye, and ye have no trust in yer wife whatsoever!" She paused to inhale as he remained speechless, and she cupped his face in her hands, whispering, "If ye love me at all, Fergus, ye'll tell me right this moment."

"I... I can't." he replied, standing up and walking towards the door. "I'm sorry, darlin'. I just can't."

"_Why not?"_ she challenged, a fresh supply of tears arriving as he hesitated.

Turning her back to him as she crawled back beneath the thick coverlets, she pulled them up beneath her chin as tears stung at her eyes. A mere second later he was at her side again, embracing her profusely as the mattress groaned beneath his weight.

"I just don't... can't... understand..."

"Elinor, you and the children mean the _world _to me. Don't be daft." he said quietly, kissing her cheek. "Ye're my queen, and I love ye more than life itself." He grimaced slightly, leaping from the bed and backing away from her, making his way towards the door. "I-I have to go. I love ye, darlin'. I love the children, and I love _you. _I love ye all so much."

He placed his hand upon the doorknob, but was intercepted by Elinor, who placed herself in between him and the door, acting as a barrier.

"I'm not allowin' ye to go anywhere, Fergus." she said, and he backed away from her once more.

"Please, Elinor. I don't want to risk hurtin' ye." he whispered shakily, his voice wavering with a slight whimper. The queen approached him, placing her hands upon his shoulders.

"Ye could never hurt me," she said gently, attempting to assuage his qualms. "Wh-whatever ye're referrin' to, we'll get through it together. I don't fear ye one bit."

She caressed his face with her hands, stroking the scruff on his chin tenderly.

"I don't trust myself not to do somethin' I'll regret." he admitted, his voice quavering slightly.

"_I _trust ye. That's what counts, dear." She kissed his lips tenderly, and he instantly pulled away, assuring that there was a safe distance between him and his wife.

His body began to tremble, and a low groan emanated from him as he, to the queen's absolute horror, began to transform. A blinding, blue light suffused from his body, filling the room as Elinor shielded her eyes – partly because of the insufferable brightness, but more so due to the fact that she was far too terrified to witness the sight before her. She listened; there was nothing but silence in the room. Slowly, a low growl began to crescendo into a roar; though it was soft, it was deep, booming, and powerful.

The queen removed her trembling hands, which until that point were shielding her eyes from the light, from her face as she laid eyes upon her husband.

A gigantic bear stood before her on all fours, three monstrous paws placed firmly upon the ground. Instead of a fourth paw, his back left, there was only an intricately crafted peg leg, which, incredibly, had remained in tact.

Elinor stood dumbfounded, backing away fearfully as the bear took a step forward. Her_ Fergus_ was a _bear. _No, it couldn't be – but it was. Her husband's expressive, blue eyes softened as he noticed her evident uneasiness, and he continued to walk towards her, pressing his damp snout to her palm. She gasped slightly at the contact, though she maintained a perfectly still, motionless stance.

"It's me, love." Fergus said ashamedly, this statement sounding as a soft, endearing growl. Elinor placed one of her hands upon his head and stroked it gently for a moment, then unexpectedly tossed her arms around his neck, enveloping him in a hug.

"Oh, Fergus!" she cried in anguish, fondling his ears tenderly in a loving manner. "Is this what ye've been hidin' from me?" He nodded slowly, lowering his head and pulling her snugly into his embrace. "Oh, darling. Ye never have to keep anythin' from me." she professed, giving a soft sniff as she stroked his fur. "We're goin' to make things right, don't ye worry. I'll always love ye, no matter what befalls us in the end. Bear or not, ye'll _always _be my husband."

"Words can't express how much I love ye, lass." Fergus said, nuzzling her face with his muzzle.

She gave a tearful laugh as he gently licked her face. He perked up his ears and nuzzled her face a final time before gazing solemnly at her. He used his head to gesture toward the door, and she sighed knowingly. Releasing him from her embrace, she looked on in distress as he began lumbering towards the door, his claws clicking on the wooden floor.

"Fergus, please. Please don't go." she pleaded, gazing up at him. He towered over her, even while he was standing on all fours.

He mussed her hair with his nose, proceeding to press it to her cheek. He clenched the sleeve of her nightgown lightly in his teeth, giving it a gentle tug. She stood firm, and she was lifted off the ground as the bear scooped her up using his head and allowed her to slide down his broad shoulders. He returned her to their bed, staring at her with determination until she huffed and reluctantly crawled beneath the covers. As she sat with her arms folded in defeat, he pulled up the quilts with his teeth, and kissed her cheek in the only way he could in his current state.

"Ye promise ye'll come straight home after ye've changed back?" she inquired of her husband. He nodded affirmatively, and the queen's eyes widened. "Oh, but yer clothes!" she exclaimed, gesturing towards his kilt, which had been completely ripped and utterly ruined when he neglected to undress before he transformed. "And what's more, if ye haven't any clothes to wear, ye'll be..." she said, blushing slightly before continuing, "Ye'll be naked as a wee babby." She shook her head. "What if someone were to see ye? In addition to that, fur won't keep ye warm once ye've changed!"

In the period of time she had been speaking, she had neglected to notice that her husband was absent, having sneaked inconspicuously out of the room. By the time she had turned her head to face him once more after she was finished speaking, he had disappeared.


	4. Chapter 4: Chilling Revelations

Chapter Four

* * *

**A/N: This is the longest chapter yet! Enjoy! **

* * *

As raindrops fell upon his face and he shifted upon the cold, hard ground, he released an audible groan. He slowly sat up, his head reeling as he did so. Surveying the area, the king placed a hand upon his forehead as he gathered his thoughts. To his relief, his hand was a _hand, _rather than a beastly paw. Had his Elinor been forced to endure a situation so frustrating? Finally, he could sympathize with how lost she most likely felt during those agonizing hours that she had spent as a bear.

A gust of brisk, wind howled past, rendering his huge, muscular body chilled as he began to shiver. How could he have been so foolish? Had he only listened to the queen, who, quite often to his frustration, was nearly always correct and ever insightful, he would not be in such a predicament! Though, truthfully, the comfort he was instilled with at the thought of his wife safe in their bed and out of harm's way warmed his heart enough so he could muster his strength and rise to his feet, slowly but surely. His peg leg wobbled for a moment, standing firmly as he righted himself. Indeed, he was entirely bare. Once again, if he had listened to his Elinor, he would not be forced to begin his trek back to the castle, warily glancing about for fear of being spotted.

Fergus gazed up at the sky, dark, mysterious and mottled with stars, glowing both faintly and brightly. Thick, darkening rainclouds loomed overhead, and the pale, cratered full moon looked down upon him with superiority as it was concealed by the clouds. It was far larger and more powerful than him, and, to his envy, it was perfectly content in its residence in the sky, snugly tucked in behind the clouds.

He continued to trudge slowly about the woods, though he wasn't entirely sure of his surroundings. Yes, he'd been about the Highlands many times during his life, though in the blackness of night, it was quite difficult to distinguish a certain tree or stone from another as a landmark.

Faintly in the distance, a beacon glowed. The welcoming, orange light of torches beckoned him as rain began to fall steadily. Thankfully, he was close to home – how fortunate it was that he hadn't wandered far. His memory was slightly clouded, and he experienced slight difficulty in recollecting just what had occurred moments before. The king grasped the gist of what had happened: he clearly remembered transforming into a bear and leaving the castle, being assured he could not possibly harm the queen. How he had wound up asleep on the forest floor, he was unsure of.

Fergus sensed his nose twitching ever so slightly at the scent of familiar surroundings, and he sighed in relief. How nice it would be to crawl into his warm bed and drift off at his wife's side. Without hesitation, Fergus began to run as fast as his legs could possibly carry him. He galloped through the glen, desperately hoping he would avoid being seen. Never in his life had he run so fast, his heart racing as rapidly as his legs were pumping, carrying him closer and closer to the warmth of his own bed, where he would be certain his family and the castle would be protected, as he would take up the duty himself.

His body wracked with a shudder as a gust of wind blasted upon his back, though Fergus was slightly grateful, as it aided in propelling him closer to the castle. For several terrorizing moments, he feared he would lose his balance.

When he finally reached the castle gates, he came to the heart wrenching realization that there was no feasible way to enter the castle; with guards at every entrance, the place was quite secure, and he had absolutely no intention of walking up to one of his servants stark naked and with no explanation of how he got that way.

Fergus stealthily slunk around the outer wall of the castle, ducking behind scattered trees and bushes along the way. Anyone witnessing this sight would find it beyond humorous, as the king's humongous frame could barely be hidden inconspicuously behind any of his makeshift shields.

He scampered further, reaching the base of the castle where just above his bedroom window rested. However, he misjudged the exact height of the window – it was a good fifteen meters to his destination.

Fergus muttered a curse under his breath. Kneeling down, he snatched a batch of bluebells into his hand before gripping a small stone tightly in his fist. If he was to rudely awaken his dear Elinor, he should at least be prepared to show her his gratitude.

He hurled the stone, and it ejected out of his hand, sailing through the air and hitting the window with an audible _thwack. _The king waited a moment before catapulting another stone upwards. The shutters of the window flew open, and the queen stood at the window, her chestnut locks spilling out over the window sill.

"Is that you, Fergus?" she called anxiously. Through the darkness and veil of the storm's rain, he was scarcely able to make out a smile on her face as he revealed the flowers from behind his back.

"My love, if ye'd be so kind as to, er..." he stammered, offering her a boyish, crooked grin. His wife's amber eyes widened at the sight of him clad in nothing, and her cheeks suffused with a blush.

"Oh, dear," she breathed, bringing her hand to her mouth in order to stifle a giggle threatening to escape. As her husband shuddered, her eyes filled with concern. "Oh, Fergus, look at ye! It's dreadfully cold out!"

"B-believe me, I'm aware." he said, receiving a worried gaze from Elinor.

"Ye wait here, dear. I'll go have the gates opened!"

"No, darlin', there's no time!" he replied quickly, glancing about. "J-just lower a rope. I'll manage."

"Fergus, ye could hurt yerself!" she objected, gripping the stone edge of the castle. He gazed at her with pleading, blue eyes, and she exhaled nervously, disappearing from the window.

The king bounced about a bit, trying to keep warm. Although his large body _did _produce and radiate a copious amount of natural heat, he was thoroughly chilled, and prayed his wife wouldn't be long in her endeavors. She returned several moments later, clutching a rope in her hands.

"That's my lass!" he praised. "Now, just tie it to somethin'... that's right."

His wife disappeared for another moment as she tied the rope tightly around one of their bedposts. He exhaled, gathering his composure before he gripped the rope and began to scale the sturdy, stone wall.

Elinor averted her gaze, fearful for her husband's safety. She let out a sigh of relief as he climbed through the window, barely managing to squeeze through. Elinor assisted him with this, placing her hands firmly upon his shoulders and giving them a tug. They tumbled backwards, landing upon their bed.

"Hold that thought, lass." Fergus panted, releasing a chuckle before handing Elinor his offering of flowers and scurrying to the crackling hearth to warm himself.

The queen approached him from behind and covered his bare body by draping a thick quilt over his massive set of shoulders. As she massaged them gently with her petite hands, her husband's body quaked with a forceful sneeze, this being the impetus to lead the queen to swivel him around by his shoulders. Her worried, alert, amber eyes drilled into his weary blue.

"Oh, Fergus, bless you." she said, her voice brimming with evident concern. She caressed his face with her hands, gingerly fondling his drenched hair.

"Thank ye, darlin'." he replied, kissing her lightly upon the forehead. He hoisted up the quilt draped over his shoulders, darting his eyes around the room as his wife gazed at him with undying worry, and after some moments passed, the silence became maddening. He gave a slight shrug. "I-it's nothin', Elinor."

"Fergus, that was most certainly _somethin'." _Elinor hugged him gently with trepidation, as if he, in his weakened state, were a fragile piece of her finest silverware. Her husband's bravery shined through; she knew well he was far too proud to afford to show any weakness or vulnerability, especially around her or their children. "I was afraid this would happen, Fergus." she lamented, shaking her head in disapproval. If only she'd insisted he stay – her husband would be perfectly warm and well if she had asserted her authority as queen. "I allowed ye to go runnin' off, and now ye've managed to catch cold out there." she said, gesturing to their bedroom window.

"Don't worry about me, love." he replied nonchalantly, brushing a lock of her chestnut tresses behind her ear. "Ye've more important things to be concerned about."

The queen couldn't help but frown at this remark. "Are ye doubtin' yer importance to me, Fergus?" she inquired interrogatively as he turned his back to her and retreated to their bed.

He plopped down upon the mattress and sunk into it with a rumbling groan, massaging his forehead with one of his hands and moaning as he did so.

"Answer me, Fergus." Elinor pressed as she padded to the bed in her bare feet. Placing his helmet on the bedside table and peeling back the covers, she crawled in to bed beside him and pulled the coverlets over both of them, immediately providing additional warmth to the king.

She raised her eyebrows at him adamantly as he glanced at her. He gave a heavy sigh, which to the queen's alarm was slightly raspy.

"No, love. 'M not." he mumbled, continuing to rub his forehead. His queen scooted closer to him, gently removing his hands from his face. She placed one of her palms on his forehead, inspecting him thoroughly as she massaged his temples with her delicate hands.

"Ye're not warm, thank goodness." she commented, planting a gentle kiss upon his forehead. "Nevertheless, I don't want ye participatin' in any strenuous activities 'til ye're right as rain again."

"Elinor, darlin', I'm _fine." _he insisted, placing a hand upon the nape of her neck. "How long was I gone?"

"Several hours, I suppose, dear." she replied, but persisted, "Fergus, ye're not invincible, no matter how much ye try and appear to be." she replied, succumbing to his embrace.

Though Elinor was certain her king would evidently change again, she would have to convince him to stay in the castle. Somehow, she would be forced to inform the rest of the clan, and, first and foremost, her daughter. A visit to the witch's cottage would most definitely be mandatory in this situation, and if all went well, she would be able to attain a cure for this curse.

"Fergus, are ye unable to control yer... yer transformations?" she asked, this thought coming to fruition at last. Now that he was evidently cursed as well, why were his transformations sporadic, while she remained a bear throughout the entire duration of the curse? He didn't respond to her, and a horrid thought crossed her mind. "H-how long have ye been goin' through this, dear?" A beat of silence occurred before she pressed, "Fergus are ye listenin'..."

He nuzzled her neck ravenously with his nose and mouth, rendering her unable to speak. She felt her inhibitions quickly diminish. Her mind, at first wild with worry, cleared instantly as her husband kissed her amorously. His mustache brushed against her neck, and she nearly lost control of herself at that exact moment. Elinor suppressed her tender feelings over the matter.

No, she had to interrogate her husband, and she had to do it soon. She turned her face away from him, and his throat appeared to produce a low but distinct whimpering sound. He bumped his forehead to her cheek, rubbing it gently against her skin.

"Elinor," he whined, allowing one of his hands to run down her waist with curiosity. She clutched his hand with a grabbing motion, lifting it from beneath the blankets. Despite the dimming light, she noticed her husband's knuckles were bloodied with thin, red rivulets trailing down to his fingertips.

"Fergus, what have ye done to yerself?" she inquired anxiously, examining his wounds. Though they were minor, she couldn't bear to see her love in any kind of pain. When he lost his leg those years ago, it nearly broke her heart in two.

He cocked his head slightly as he furrowed his thick brow. "I haven't a clue, darlin'." he replied, perplexed. Honestly, he did not.

Removing his hand from his wife's grasp, he held it up to examine it in the candlelight. Suddenly, it flooded back to him. He realized he'd been marking his territory (in other words, the Clan DunBroch) in various places with his... _claws. _He really _was_ a beast. Now that he had reverted back to his human form, his hands had taken the damage. How had this happened to him? When had this terrible curse begun? When had he started noticing the symptoms? The king wracked his brain. _Remember, remember. C'mon, remember! _He sighed exasperatedly, and his wife smiled slightly yet knowingly. He rolled over on to his back, rubbing his forehead in his apparent exhaustion.

"Fergus, let's not dwell on this tonight." she suggested. "It's been quite a harrowing day for the both of us. Shall we get some sleep now, hm?"

Snuggling closer to him, she placed a hand tenderly upon his chest, making circular motions.

"I wish I could remember when this first began. My first transformation, Elinor – I can't remember."

"Shh," she whispered. He gazed at her, his blue eyes locking with her amber ones. "Don't fret over it now. I want ye to go straight to sleep, dear. Now, close those eyes."

She kissed his cheek as she coaxed him, whispering comforting words to him as if he were a child. Those gorgeous blue orbs, softening at the sight of her loving gaze – it warmed her heart.

"I don't know how much longer I can do this, Eli." he admitted, gazing up at the top of their canopy bed. "I'm doin' more harm than good for you _and _our children now. Do ye suppose I should..."

"Fergus, dear, please don't talk like that." she ordered hastily, placing her index finger to his lips. Truthfully, she didn't want to hear the next string of words to escape his lips, as the prospect seemed far too grim for her tastes. "I don't want to hear another word out of ye. I just..." Sighing, she gained her composure before continuing, "Just let me look at ye."

So fearful she had been just a short time before. She knew now that the thought of having a secret mistress would never cross her husband's mind for a mere second. Gently, he touched her cheek, his mouth curving into a smile.

She chuckled softly. "As odd as this sounds, dear, ye don't know how happy I am that ye just have a habit of changin' into a bear, and that ye don't have, well, another lady in yer life."

He grinned in amusement, his body booming with a chuckle. "Never," he professed, toying with her hair. "Never, lass."

A sudden, low growl emanated from deep within his throat, and Elinor's heart jumped at this sound. He sounded uncannily like a beast, and it slightly alarmed her. No – she had to have faith in her husband. He would _never _harm her, and she had complete trust in him. He would sooner put himself in danger than allow her to be placed in harm's way.

His body rumbled with yet another deep growl. She questioningly furrowed her brow as his pupils dilated slightly.

"Elinor, ye'd never love another man, would ye?" he asked gruffly with another growl, his possessive instincts rousing.

"Fergus, why would ye ask such a ridiculous question?" she exclaimed, flinching as her husband's blue eyes flared. His eyes softened instantly at the sight of a cowering Elinor.

"Elinor. Are ye... are ye afraid of me?" he asked guiltily, an ashamed expression appearing upon his crestfallen face.

His queen's amber eyes locked with his blue as she took his head in her hands, his curly hair free from the confinement of his helmet.

"No, dear. No, I'm not afraid." Truthfully, she wasn't. It was physically impossible for her to fear her king.

Assuaged, he nuzzled her hair gently. Filling his nostrils with her scent, he released a soft, contented groan. She rested her palms on either side of his head, cradling his head in her hands.

As the bed quaked with a booming yawn that he released, she proceeded to chuckle mischievously, "Now, then. Have ye received enough of my sole, undivided attention before we both nod off? Or do ye require more?"

She stifled a yawn with her hand, the drowsiness emanating from her husband and being absorbed by her quickly becoming contagious. Fergus sported a dreamy grin upon his face, his smile widening as he grasped the meaning of his wife's words.

"Eli," he murmured, nuzzling her face lovingly.

Elinor chuckled warmly, though she was slightly perplexed. His behavior was quite strange. He was always entirely devoted to her, and showered her with affection. However, her husband's nature was most certainly ursine.

She sighed as she began to grow frustrated with her confusion. The queen was sure the witch would be able to provide her with some answers. She would certainly get to the bottom of this situation in time.


	5. Chapter 5: In Search of an Answer

Chapter Five

* * *

**A/N: Another long segment. Hope you all like. :3**

* * *

The following morning, the queen awakened before the king, though he stirred soon after she did. Questioningly, he raised a brow, curious as to where his wife would be running off to so early in the morning.

Though she most always rose as soon as the sun did, as it began its ascent in the sky, the glowing sun was just beginning to peek out from behind the horizon, lazily inching its way upwards. She quickly dressed in her dark blue gown, combing out her hair and leaving it down. She tied back the tresses hanging in front of her amber eyes before gazing at her reflection in the mirror. She was certainly presentable, and she caught Fergus eying her hungrily from behind as she gazed at herself. Although Elinor had a feeling that her husband would completely disapprove of her wandering through the glen unattended, she felt it best that she make the trip alone.

"Darling, I-I'm goin' to pay a visit to the witch." she confessed, and awaited his response.

Oh, the witch! Hadn't she mentioned that she was off at a festival until the spring? A lump began to form in her throat, feeling pestered by her tears that were threatening. She had to have hope. Perhaps the witch arrived home early – hopefully, she was asked to leave due to her habits of tricking innocent members of society.

When her husband made a motion to sit up, she added hastily, "No, dear. I want ye... I _need _ye to stay here. I've some business to attend to."

"No, Elinor. I don't want ye to go off alone." he persisted, capturing an empowered cough with his fist. "I'm comin' with ye."

"_You _are not settin' foot out of this bed 'til that dreadful cough ceases." she stated, not willing to accept neither protests nor excuses from the sick man before her. She plucked his night tunic from the chest beside their bed and placed it on his lap. "Slip this on, dear." she ordered. Fergus rolled his eyes but succumbed to his wife's demands nonetheless. "I'll have Maudie bring ye some warm broth. And Fergus, I expect ye not to give her any trouble while I'm gone. Am I understood?"

"At least allow me to send a guard with ye." he offered, though she shook her head.

"Fergus, I'll be back before ye know it. Don't fret." she insisted intractably.

"That's not possible." he sighed, folding his arms, though he slowly nodded.

Elinor approached the side of the bed and touched his forehead gently with the back of her hand. Leaning down, she placed a light kiss upon his cheek before exiting their bedroom and quietly closing the door behind her.

* * *

After informing Maudie of the king's condition, the regal queen smiled in satisfaction as the nursemaid scurried to perform her task. She opted not to tell Merida of her endeavors, as she was determined to visit the eccentric witch _alone. _Surely, her daughter would wish to accompany her on the journey, but the queen believed it would be much more productive if she interrogated the elderly woman by herself, taking into consideration how impetuous her beloved Merida was.

Elinor was aware that she had intimidated her subjects on numerous occasions, and could strike fear to the core of many. Her nature most often affected her loved ones, a fact that she both relished and hated.

Sneaking inconspicuously out of the castle, she hurried to the stables and saddled her trusted, dapple-gray stallion. As the queen placed her left foot in the stirrup and mounted her horse, her stomach fluttered with anticipation. She was completely at a loss for words.

What would she say to the witch? _I don't believe we've had the pleasure of meeting. Oh, yes, you are the delightful individual who gave my daughter a gammy spell and had me turned into a bear. Charmed!_ No, that would be foolish. She would rather that fact be left unsaid. Although, she had no idea the extent of the powers the witch possessed. She'd never actually met her in person, though Merida had. Now that she had the time to collect her thoughts, perhaps it would have been wise to invite her daughter to come along.

Elinor turned her head to gaze back at the castle. No, this had to be done. There was no turning back once her stallion's hooves began to pound, and she therefore ordered him to proceed before she lost the nerve to go through with her mission. The queen's steed lurched forward as he began to race and leave the castle grounds. She soared past several guards manning their posts, and she vaguely heard them call out to her in alarm as they scratched their heads in confusion.

"There, now, Barnaby." she soothed, gripping the rains until her knuckles turned white. She squeezed her legs tighter against the muscular animal's sides, fearful of falling off as the horse tore through the glen. The queen, though she had the undeniable urge to squeeze her eyes shut, kept her amber orbs open and alert, darting them about as she analyzed her surroundings. Elinor knew she was growing close to the cairn stones, where she was sure the wisps would appear for her. At least, she prayed they would. They _had _to, for Fergus' sake. There was no fathomable way that she could locate the witch's cottage without the assistance of the elusive creatures, and she had a sickening fear that she would lose her husband if she was unable to ask advice of the witch.

As she reached the clearing and circle of towering pillars, she brought her steed to a sharp halt, and the horse snorted indignantly. She patted his neck encouragingly, whispering apologetic words to the flustered animal. Barnaby stomped one of his hooves on the ground, kicking up dirt as he pawed the earth anxiously.

Elinor slid out of the saddle and on to the ground. Mud specked the stallion's neat coat, though she had an ill feeling that the sudden, urgent ride through the glen was not what the horse was upset about.

Several moments of silence passed before they appeared – blue wisps of light beckoning the queen towards them. Elinor hesitated. With a sigh, she made up her mind. There was no other alternative than to follow them. Risk losing her love? Not on her life.

She placed a foot forward, taking cautious steps as her steed followed close behind. He pressed his velvet muzzle against her palm for comfort, and the queen whispered quiet phrases to the distressed animal. She continued to shuffle forward, blinking as the creatures before her refused to silence their inviting whispers.

Again and again, they brightened and faded, brightened and faded. When their absences began to become more drawn out, the queen sensed she was growing closer to her destination.

A small, unassuming cottage came into view, and Elinor felt her heart begin to beat erratically. This was it. That is, if memory served, this was the correct place. She stepped up to the wooden door and knocked quietly as Barnaby kept his distance, backing away ever so slightly and flicking his ears warily.

She rapped on the door once more, calling out a soft greeting. Perhaps the woman wasn't home? Oh, she prayed that she was. The queen, though normally collected and dignified, was beginning to feel hopeless, as if the world was closing in around her. She waited silently for nearly a minute before lowering her head in defeat. At that moment, the door swung open, and a raven's cry filled the air. Elinor flinched instinctively, snapping her head up towards the sound.

A voice croaked from the darkness, "Ye shouldn't mutter, lassie. It's not becomin' of ye."

"A-aye," Elinor murmured, clearing her throat. She had to get to the point as soon as possible. She had to return home soon to tend to Fergus. "I-I'm in need of yer help. Please."

"No solicitors!" the voice snapped.

"N-no! That's not it at all! I'm seeking guidance!"

A moment of silence passed.

"Why didn't ye say so in the first place, dearie? Come in, come in!" the voice invited. "Don't be shy or timid." Elinor cautiously stepped over the threshold, ducking with a gasp as a raven soared overhead. "Och, don't mind him lassie."

A figure emerged from the darkness, and the queen squinted as a haggard, elderly woman came into view.

"I-it _is _you..." she whispered breathlessly, taken aback at the witch's appearance. She had heard the witch's message in this very cottage just weeks before, but had only seen a blurry, visual representation of the elder. The old woman chortled.

"In the flesh, lassie." the woman replied. Elinor gave a slight nod before continuing.

"Th-thank goodness ye're back from the festival. I-I," Elinor stuttered, still in shock at the abrupt greeting from the witch. "I-I-I, er-erm..."

"Calm yerself, lassie! Can't understand a word from ye!" the witch said, raising her hands.

Elinor inhaled deeply. "Yes. My apologies. Do forgive me. I am..."

"I know who ye are! Ye're the Bear Queen!" the witch exclaimed matter-of-factly. Elinor raised an eyebrow.

"E-excuse me?" she asked, not entirely certain that she'd heard the woman correctly.

"Oh, spare me, dearie. The forest has the gift of gab. I've heard things." she replied vaguely, turning around and clutching her carved walking stick.

"W-well, my husband _is _widely known as the Bear King." Elinor stated, fumbling with her hands and sliding her wedding band aimlessly up and down her finger. "Speaking of my husband, he is n-not... _well."_

"Hm?" the witch responded absentmindedly. With a clap of her bony hands, her cauldron lit up with an illuminating, eerie glow. "So then, what's brought ye here, dearie?"

"My husband." Elinor persisted.

"Aye, yer husband." the witch sighed, beginning to stir her brew. "Now, what are ye seekin'? A cure? Perhaps a potion? A spell? What are his symptoms, lassie?"

"W-well, let me see, now..." Elinor spoke quietly and hesitatingly.

"Speak up, I haven't got all day! I'm a busy woman, ye know! Busy, busy, busy!"

"_He's a bear!" _the queen exclaimed after becoming weary of the old woman's ramblings.

The witch froze and raised her head, nearly dropping the spoon she was gripping into her concoction.

"Oh." she murmured as her raven dove down, flapping his wings and perching upon her shoulder. "That's not normal, now is it? Not normal a'tall!"

"Not normal a'tall!" the raven echoed in a squawk, snapping its beak open and closed while blinking its beady eyes.

"Er, no, I should say not." Elinor replied with uncertainty.

The witch suddenly doubled over laughing, and her raven followed her example, screeching and squawking loudly.

"He's _really _the Bear King now, isn't he, lassie!" the old woman cackled, holding her sides as her raven took flight and circled about the room. The creature hovered above the queen's head, and Elinor backed into the wall, leaning against it and gazing up at the raven. As the witch glanced at the queen, she scowled at her companion, scolding him. With a snap of her fingers, the raven returned to his master's shoulder. "I do apologize. Very unprofessional of me. Now, what can I do for ye? Can I interest ye in some quality wood carvings to match yer décor with the king? Are ye interested at all in decoratin' yer bedroom?"

"No, thank you, the king and I just delivered the last of yer carvings to..." the queen began, but she was interrupted.

"So what's the problem, then? Sheddin' in the bed, is he? Perhaps another lass in his life?"

"No, I..." Elinor began, grasping what the witch had just uttered. "I... I _beg _yer pardon?" the queen said, narrowing her eyes.

"If I were you, I would be concerned about yer bear findin' another mate."

"A... _mate?" _

"Aye. Ye're his mate at the moment, but I caution ye. Once he establishes his territory, he'll surely seek out a mate. In other words, another bear, if ye're not present."

Elinor was flabbergasted at this remark. Though, now she understood why the king had been so amorous the night before. He was normally so adoring, though his possessive instincts had been roused and were accentuated ever more so than usual.

"Oh, no! My Fergus would never..."

She noticed the witch beginning to examine her intrusively. The haggard, old woman circled her, whistling for her raven to perform a task for her. He took flight, clutching a tape measure in his talons and dropping it into his master's hand. The witch wrapped the ribbon of fabric around the queen's waist, then proceeded to thoroughly examine her locks. The monarch squeaked as the old woman, surprisingly vivacious, plucked a single chestnut strand from her head.

"Growin' it out, are ye?" the witch observed, beginning to mumble. "A wee bit 'o gray, but overall ye've maintained yer figure quite nicely. Still, lass, I'd speak to yer husband about this matter." The queen's heart fell at this revelation, her fears of betrayal reigniting. "Ye're entirely sure ye're not the slightest bit fretful over..."

"_No!" _the queen exclaimed, proceeding to sigh wearily. _"Please, _I beg of ye. Please help me restore my husband to himself again. I'm very worried. I'm afraid he's come down with a terrible cold, and I fear his health will become frail if..."

"Are ye certain he's not _allergic _to _himself_, lassie?" the witch inquired sarcastically, bursting with laughter once more.

"Y-yes, I'm certain. _Please, _if there's _anythin' _ye can do to lift this curse..."

Rarely would the queen resort to begging, but she was willing to do anything to have her Fergus back to himself once more.

"Curse, ye say?" the witch questioned, raising a brow. The queen responded with a somber nod.

"Aye. I fear my dear Fergus is suffering from the exact curse I was affected by. Though he seems to revert back and forth between bear and man."

The witch appeared to be puzzled. She turned on her heels and removed a heavy tome from her bookshelf. Approaching a nearby table, she pushed everything scattered upon it aside, causing several objects to fall to the floor in the process. She placed the book upon the table with an audible _thump, _flipping it open expertly. She then traced a bony finger along the page, stopping abruptly.

"Aha!" she shrieked, her raven crowing in unison. "The cake, now. I gave yer daughter a cake. Quite a delicacy if I do say so myself. Now, did yer husband happen to eat any of that particular cake?"

"Not that I'm aware of. My wee sons had a bit, of that I'm sure." Elinor replied, and although it was true the triplets had eaten some of the cake, she was uncertain if her king had. Fergus ate like a horse; it was quite possible that he had taken a bite or two behind her back, though she had no earthly idea.

"Well, if yer husband didn't become peckish durin' the night, I haven't the faintest of ideas of how this happened, dearie." the witch responded, shaking her head as she returned to her cauldron.

"Oh, no." Elinor murmured, burying her face in her hands. She gazed up once more, tears glimmering in her eyes. "So, there isn't a single thing ye can do?"

"Unfortunately, no." the witch admitted. "The king may recover in days, weeks, months, or possibly never."

Her wrinkled face fell in pity as the queen turned her back to her, a single tear rolling down her cheek and plummeting to the stone floor. She studied the queen as she removed a handkerchief from her sleeve, dabbing her eyes several times. After gaining her composure, Elinor turned to face the witch once more, who bowed her head out of respect.

"I am truly sorry."

"Thank ye for yer kind words." the queen said quietly, emotion causing her voice to waver. "I must be goin'."

As she started toward the door, the raven swooped down and turned the knob with his talons.

"Good day to ye." the witch said, bidding the queen goodbye.

As the monarch took her leave, she gritted her teeth in frustration. She was right back where she started again – hopeless, desperate, and utterly lost. She admonished herself for her foolishness and naivety. Her mother had raised her from a young girl to be responsible and level-headed, and may mercy be had upon her soul if and when her mother found out about this escapade; she'd be so ashamed.

Her horse snuffed her hair, having had approached her in the midst of her deep thoughts. The muscular stallion's form tensed up, and as Elinor placed her hand upon his velvet coat, she felt his heart begin to race through her palm. The animal locked his knees and sturdily placed his hooves upon the earth, tail swishing wildly, ears bent backward.

"What's gotten into ye, Barnaby?" inquired the queen with anxious concern. Her steed snorted irritably and reared up on his hind legs, pawing the air with astounding force. Elinor reached for the reins as they dangled out of reach, and as the animal momentarily came down for a brief second, she grasped them tightly and without hesitation. "Barnaby, please! Whoa, hush, now!" Elinor pleaded, narrowly managing to keep the horse grounded as she stroked his forehead and ran her fingers through his forelock.

Climbing aboard her horse's back, the queen nearly missed the stirrup with her foot, much too flustered to even attempt to position herself properly atop the saddle. She ordered him to tear off at a gallop, hoping to escape the area as soon as possible; something was evidently perturbing the stallion, and, quite frankly, she wasn't wishing to find out what the reason for his unsettled behavior was.

As Barnaby took a step forward, a thin, lanky, growling creature leaped in front of the duo, licking its chops expectantly. Elinor froze at the sight of the hungry wolf, a lump beginning to form in her throat. Normally, should she find herself in danger, her faithful husband would assess the situation and spring into action with little to no forethought, but as she realized that she was alone with only a frightened horse on her side, her amber eyes widened in fear. She truly was all alone.


	6. Chapter 6: The Jaws of the Beast

Chapter Six

* * *

**A/N: This has one word in it that _could _be deemed inappropriate, but it's nothing horrible. Enjoy!  
**

* * *

Barnaby reared up once more, and his master straddled him tightly with her legs as he nervously defended himself.

The canine, which possessed pure white teeth along with several specks of gray on its huge paws, glared at the queen and steed, glowing, luminous, yellow eyes piercing into Elinor's soul. It snarled, baring its gleaming, white fangs, begging to dig into fresh flesh.

The queen snapped the reins, signaling for Barnaby to gallop away to the safety of the castle and the arms of the king.

In an instant, the rest of its pack showed themselves, swiftly leaping from the bushes in order to aid their pack leader. The superior latched on to his prey's leg, and the horse whinnied in pain.

Elinor screamed – an extremely unladylike shriek at that, but she hardly noticed in the midst of the state of terror she was experiencing. She squeezed her eyes shut, and the cry of the beast rang in her ears.

A deafening roar filled the area, and she opened her eyes, amber orbs brimming with unmistakable fright. The wolf staggered backwards as a humongous paw smacked it square in the jaw, and Elinor watched incredulously as it stumbled, resting upon the ground. The attacker, satisfied at the ambush, approached the queen and her injured horse as the animal limped and slowly sunk downward, lying upon the grass with a quiet nicker.

As the bear was greeted by a grateful Elinor, a low, contented growl, purely cordial, emanated from his throat as the queen wrapped her arms around his neck, petting him on his head and hugging him tightly. She never wished to let him go.

"Elinor. Oh, my darlin', let me look at ye." the king grunted, although he knew well his wife was unable to understand him. "Oh, lass, thank the heavens above that I found ye in the nick of time. Shh, love. It's all over now, dear." he moaned softly, placing his paw upon her back and kissing her face with his snout.

"Oh, Fergus, dear..." she whimpered, recovering from the shock she had just endured.

As her husband nuzzled her face, relishing the time spent with his wife, he suddenly roared in agony, snapping his head around and flattening his ears down upon his head. The wolf had latched on to his ankle, and the queen watched in horror as the creature sunk its teeth into the king's hide; he cried out in pain again, kicking his back leg fiercely in an attempt to free himself from his assailant's grip.

Blood seeped from his leg, and, despite the pain in his back right leg, he leaped atop the wolf where it lay upon the ground, recovering from the fierce kick it just received. It barked, and its underlings attacked the king, clamping their jaws on the king's flesh in multiple places. The alpha bared its fangs and snapped at the king's nose, sending him backward.

As Fergus shook himself free of the beasts, the lead canine pounced, razor-sharp teeth sinking into the king's wooden leg. It seized the prize in its mouth and shook its head vigorously, and Elinor shrieked a cry of the king's name as the peg leg popped off with seemingly no strenuousness on the wolf's part. Fergus turned his head and craned his neck to examine his leg, and while he was distracted, the wolf had ejected its prize from its jaws.

The king turned to face the queen, bellowing as his foes jumped on top of him, biting down upon the scruff of his neck, bushy tails flowing behind them. Fergus reared up on his back leg, allowing himself to fall backward while landing upon the wolves with his massive form, his entire amount of weight applying deadly force upon the creatures. The dogs howled in pain, and Fergus rolled off of the injured beasts.

As several members of the pack scattered and retreated into the woods, he weakly began limping towards the queen, whose amber eyes suffused with worry. She hoisted up her skirts and bounded towards him, examining his innumerable wounds, all seeping with crimson blood.

A threatening snarl sounded once more as the leader of the pack, the only remaining foe and evidently the alpha male, slowly rose to its feet, though the queen sensed it was becoming disenchanted with the fight, as her bear of a husband easily dwarfed the dog.

Fergus swiveled around to face his foe once more, growling in warning as the wolf approached. When it refused to back down, the king stepped over the queen. Crouching down, the queen cowered beneath her husband as he acted as a makeshift shield.

"Ye'll have to go through me to get to her."

He kept his weight significantly off of her, though he used his entire body to protect his wife. The wolf refused to keep its distance, and the king roared angrily, feeling Elinor tremble beneath him as his body rumbled with rage.

"I'll say it again. Ye stay away from my queen, ye mongrel." he snarled threateningly, digging his claws into the ground as the wolf continued to prowl towards him. "Ye damned beast – if ye take one hair from my Elinor's head, I'll tear ye to pieces, do ye understand me?!"

He roared deafeningly, trying desperately to intimidate his foe into submission. The creature dove for the king, and Fergus in turn lunged at the wolf, the two clashing with one another with a barrage of fierce swipes of their claws. With a final blow, the king smacked the wolf away as it yelped in pain.

The Bear King stood panting, trembling as the full extent of his injuries settled into him, a wave of agonizing and relentless pain crashing down upon him. He toppled to the ground, and the queen scampered to his side, falling to her knees and gently moving his head on to her lap.

The creature rose a final time, hoping for one last attempt to make an attack. As the enraged, starving animal lunged for the vulnerable threesome of the queen and injured king and stallion, it howled as an arrow punctured its flesh, aimed directly at its chest and piercing its heart with perfect precision.

"Mum!" called a tearful voice, the pounding of heavy hooves echoing in the distance.

Merida appeared over the hill, and the queen hugged the king's head as her tears began to fall upon his blood-caked fur.

Angus stopped short as Merida leaped from the saddle, catching herself with her hands as she landed upon the earth. Her green dress flailed out behind her as the queen rose to her feet and met her halfway, and the princess ran straight into her mother's arms.

The queen stroked her daughter's curls, fearful of what may have happened if her child had missed her shot, despite how rare an occurrence that would have been. Would the wolf's attention have been directed to her beloved daughter, and would the monster have turned on her instead of her parents? That was an outcome the queen didn't wish to think about.

"Merida, oh," the queen murmured woefully into her daughter's hair, "thank goodness. Are ye hurt, darling?" she asked, kissing her daughter's forehead in a motherly fashion. Her daughter shook her head, and the queen's expression flooded with relief.

"Thank goodness I found you and Dad in time." she said, tugging fervently on the sleeve of her mother's gown. "Let's be off home, Mum. His wounds need to be treated."

The queen's eyes widened in confusion. "Merida, however did ye..."

"Dad hurried off in a tizzy earlier. I feared somethin' was wrong." Merida confessed, glancing at the carcass of the wolf. "What are we to do with him?"

"Yer father is our priority at the moment." Elinor replied, and a low whine emanated from Fergus. Elinor and Merida hurried to his side, and the princess' eyes filled with tears.

"Dad! Oh, Daddy, look at ye!" Merida cried, and her father appeared to smile as she placed her hand upon his paw.

His solemn, blue eyes gazed up at his child, and he proceeded to nudge his daughter's hand with his head. He growled, attempting to illustrate his pride for his capable kin. As he attempted to rise to his feet, the queen intervened, gently restraining him.

"No, dear. Ye stay down."

"I'll go rally the clan." Merida assured her parents.

"Oh, that would be wonderful, my love." Elinor said to her daughter, frowning in concern as her husband released a groan out of suffering. "I can't imagine how we could possibly carry yer father back."

Merida gave a swift nod, professing, "I'll be back before ye know it, Mum."

She whistled for Angus, and the Clydesdale faithfully trotted to her side, excited and snorting wildly. Merida hoisted herself up upon the stallion's back, instantly tearing off into the forest in a frenzied gallop.

Elinor turned her head at the sound of her husband's whimpering, and she placed her hand upon his paw.

"Stay here, dear, I'm goin' to tend to Barnaby." Fergus nodded slowly at this statement, allowing his head to fall to the ground with a _thud. _

Elinor approached her noble steed, who nickered quietly as his master fondled his ear. "There now, lad." she cooed, massaging his ear gently as she leaned down to examine the wound on his fetlock. Thankfully, the wound was rather minor, and the queen placed a hand over her heart.

A sudden groan, surprisingly human, called out to her, and she swiveled around to face her husband, who lay upon the ground, writhing in pain. She hastily scurried to his side, placing a hand upon him, being struck with unrelenting terror as she felt his breathing becoming rather shallow.

"Oh, Fergus, come now! Ye've pushed through worse things than this!" she cried, burying her face into his thick fur.

Before her eyes, he began to change – his gigantic paws morphed into hands and feet as he transformed, and Elinor grabbed his hand, her heart lifting a bit as he squeezed it gently.

"Are ye alright," he whispered hoarsely, grimacing, "m'darlin'?"

Elinor's mouth gaped at the full extent of his injuries; he sported bloodied bite and claw marks from where the wolf had attacked him, and had numerous, deep gashes on his chest, arms, and leg. His left leg, where his wooden leg had popped off just below the knee, was luckily unharmed and untouched by the wolf. Elinor was nearly certain his left leg wouldn't be able to endure such an injury a second time.

The queen hastily peeled off her cloak, draping it over her husband's bare body and clasping her hands together in front of her face.

"N-no, love, keep it on. Ye need it more than... than me." He made a motion to remove the cloak.

"Nonsense; I allowed this to happen to you," she chastised herself, tears welling in her eyes and eventually spilling over, cascading down her cheeks. The king shook his head weakly, but she lifted his head gently, whispering a gentle _no._ "No, dear, if I hadn't gone off ye wouldn't have come for me."

"If ye wandered off and I didn't come lookin' for ye, then ye'd be dead now, Elinor. Then where would I be?" he professed.

His wife kissed his lips gently, caressing his face. As he attempted to sit up, he winced, and Elinor's eyes widened in alarm.

"Don't move, Fergus," she ordered as calmly as she could manage, placing her gentle hands upon him.

Fergus didn't register what his wife asked of him, as he shortly began to become dizzy and delirious.

"'M not feelin' all that well, dear..." he muttered, and Elinor stroked his head gently as she hushed him, "...and I'm feelin' rather weak."

"Oh, dear, I know," Elinor said lovingly, "but ye'll be back home in no time."

"Elinor, I'm havin' a wee bit 'o trouble..."

The king began to feel his eyelids become heavy, weighed down with plaguing weariness looming in the back of his mind. Several frantic calls of his name were all he heard before he fell into unconsciousness.

* * *

The queen's brogue echoing in his ears and a chilled sensation coming to his forehead, Fergus slowly opened his clouded, blue eyes, smiling as a blurry image of his wife came into view.

"Elinor," he croaked, his words coming to a halt as the queen hushed him.

"Hush, now." she cooed, gazing at him with sincere, amber orbs.

The flickering candlelight in the room danced across her delicate features; it was as if he was falling in love with her all over again.

"Ye gave me quite a fright, Fergus." added his mate, whose hand he gently took in his as she offered him a slight smile. "Ye had a fever for some time... though I do believe your wounds will heal nicely."

In all honesty, she had been absolutely terrified. Naturally, she would have been.

_What exactly _is _the extent of my injuries? _the king thought. He craned his neck to try and get a better look at himself, moaning as he did so. The pain shooting through his body was unlike any he'd previously experienced, excluding the loss of his leg.

"Fergus, I know it's difficult, but ye must remain still." Elinor cautioned, her amber eyes widening in alarm. He sunk back down, the mattress squeaking as he did so. "There now, darling," she crooned, touching his bandaged head gently, "isn't that better?"

Truthfully, she didn't wish to allow him to catch a glimpse of himself. He was thoroughly battered; not only his physical form, but his pride as well. Knowing that he could now be unable to defend his family for an indefinite period of time, his heart would be split in two.

His muscular chest was dotted with numerous gashes, and he sported a tight bandage wrapped around his right bicep. His right ankle had also been wrenched by the wolf, leaving him most likely unable to stand for the time being.

"A-aye," he affirmed. He paused before continuing hoarsely, "H-how long was I unconscious, Eli?"

"Several hours, I'd say," she replied, dabbing his forehead gently, "but ye're safe and warm in our bed, now, dear. Everythin' is goin' to be alright. It's all over now."

Yes, it was all over. She was instilled with profuse relief that it indeed was over. Fergus was safe. She smiled lovingly as her king took her hand gently, lifting it up to his face and kissing her palm.

"Now, I'm goin' to see what I can find for ye in ways of supper."

"Thank you... Elinor." he said in a soft voice, his blue eyes slowly closing in his state of sheer exhaustion.

"I'll be back before ye know it, dear." she whispered, smiling as she took her leave.


	7. Chapter 7: Fond Memories

Chapter Seven

* * *

King Fergus and Queen Elinor were often known to be quite reserved in means of their affections for each other in front of others. The queen always put on a very authoritative air in order to remind her subjects that she was indeed their ruler, and as her husband was often incapable of making difficult decisions and was notorious for making poor, rash ones, she felt it was her responsibility to be the voice of rhyme and reason to his childish antics.

Though Fergus could challenge her patience at times, his playfulness was one of the many reasons she loved him. Still, she couldn't imagine being married to anyone else, and certainly couldn't fathom rebuilding her life if she were to lose him.

She unconsciously sighed, and her love immediately rolled over to face her, wincing in pain. Her amber eyes softened at this sight, and she caressed his face gently with a loving touch. His blue eyes showed copious amounts of love for her, and he placed his hand upon hers, smiling ever so slightly.

"Oh, Fergus," she said, concerned, "are ye in pain, dear?"

Secretly, she was positive he wouldn't admit it, even if he was experiencing the most excruciating torture one could ever face.

"Eh, I'll manage, Eli." he replied, his expression turning slightly puzzled at his wife's knowing gaze. "What's on yer mind, m'dear?" he inquired.

She touched her forehead to his, which, encouraging her worrisome nature, was unpleasantly warm. The queen instantly brought her hand up to his face, touching his skin lightly. She had been told his wounds would heal quite nicely, despite the fact that he fought off a pack of wolves simply to protect her, but she was aware that her husband had his limits. He selflessly acted as a makeshift shield in order to defend her, and she knew he would've fought to the death if it meant keeping her out of harm's way. It was her turn to be responsible for him.

"Oh, I was just relivin' today's events." she replied, smiling slightly. "I don't want ye to ever try anythin' so reckless again, Fergus."

"You were in danger, love. I had no choice but to take a risk." he responded in a soft tone.

The queen shook her head slowly, and her amber eyes closed as she grasped his hands and brought them to her heart. He was quiet. Therefore, it was evident that he was feeling under the weather, perhaps even ill.

"I can take care of myself, dear. You, of all people, should know that."

"I know ye can, dear. Ye're the most able lady I've ever known, but this time ye were outnumbered." the king whispered, pressing his lips to her forehead.

Her curtains of dark hair spilled over her shoulders, and as he wrapped his arms around her waist, the long strands tickled his arms. His mate had been in peril, and naturally, out of instinct, he took action. He couldn't lose his love.

"I suppose," the queen murmured, opening her eyes. "But, Fergus, how did ye know I was in danger? Ye simply appeared out of nowhere. H-how is that possible?" she ventured, raising a brow as her king appeared to struggle to gather his thoughts.

"I... I don't know, Elinor. I really haven't a single idea. I just... I _sensed _it. Somethin'... somethin' told me ye were in trouble, and I had to do somethin'. I just had this ill feelin'. It's like I was somehow connected to ye. I saw what you saw."

As the queen absorbed this, a chill was sent down her spine. Had Fergus somehow perceived the future before it happened? Had he simply sensed that she was in danger?

She focused her attention on him once more as he continued, "Before I knew it, I was transformed and runnin' through the glen."

"This is all so... so... oh, dear, I wish I could help ye in some way, love." Elinor said with a flustered sigh. "My trip to the witch's cottage proved to be for naught." she scoffed, shaking her head in disapproval. "Can that woman do one thing correctly?"

"Obviously ye need to give her some lessons in that respect, dear." Fergus chuckled, and he smiled as his wife flinched ever so slightly in his arms at the sound of thunder rumbling in the distance.

He rolled over on his back, studying his love as she blew out the candle beside their bed with a swift breath. She quickly retired to his side once more, making herself comfortable beneath the quilts. She turned over, smiling as the king embraced her from behind, hugging her form as he wrapped his arms securely around her waist. Elinor was instilled with a complete sense of safety knowing he was in the arms of her trusted king.

* * *

The anxious queen experienced a restless night, even in the comfort of Fergus' arms. Despite the rage building at her core for her nearly lost love, she had to maintain her anger in a ladylike manner. She loved Fergus oh so very dearly. They'd been companions for what seemed like eons. In fact, she recalled the day they became acquainted with one another almost perfectly, to nearly every exact detail.

* * *

"Oh, lad!" Princess Elinor inquired anxiously, offering a hand out to the boy diving in and out of the water, soaked to the skin.

Despite the state he was in, he was grinning devilishly, and there was a mischievousness in his aura that caused Elinor to become slightly uneasy. The princess ignored his gaze, however, fixing her eyes upon the boy before her.

"Please, allow me to aid you. The water is quite brisk this time of year. It's not beneficial to yer health."

The boy appeared to study her, darting his eyes up and down several times before giving a _humph _with a smug grin.

"Oh, that would be ever so wonderful." he purred, and Elinor held out a hand to assist him.

The boy grabbed her hand, and with a swift motion pulled her in. With a shriek, the princess hit the water. The red-headed lad roared with laughter, clutching his stomach as he snorted. Elinor submerged in the water, inhaling air with deep breaths. Her long, sopping strands of hair covered her eyes, and she parted the curtain with her hands, glaring at him angrily.

"Wh-what... y-you!" she barked, pointing a finger at him. Aimlessly, she began to wade in the water, searching for something in particular.

As the lad began to recover from his spell of laughter, he brushed a tear from the corner of his eye as the brown-eyed lass before him huffed with frustration.

"Och, ye should'a seen yer _face!" _

He snorted as he threatened to burst into laughter once more, but restrained himself. He tread water as he continued to observe the princess, who spun around to scowl at him.

"Pardon me for my inherent, generous nature." she snapped, hoisting up her drenched skirts in her hand as she realized she could indeed touch the bottom of the river.

The boy quirked a brow. "Yer _what?" _he scoffed, wading over to the bank and resting his chin on his folded arms. Elinor shook her head in scorn as she began to squeeze the water from her tresses, occasionally reaching up to pluck twigs from her hair.

"Never mind that," she said tritely, "but ye will be accompanyin' me back to my clan to explain to my father why the princess has lost her crown."

She daintily turned her nose up at the boy, taking sadistic satisfaction in the expression that became donned upon his face.

"W-wait, ye're the princess?" he inquired, twiddling his thumbs anxiously. "S-so that means yer father is-"

"The king, yes." she interrupted, folding her arms as she frowned with disapproval. The young man chewed his lower lip before sighing and holding up his hands in defeat.

"O-okay, okay, j-just wait one second," he said, squeezing his eyes shut and pinching his forehead with his fingers as he gathered his thoughts. "Alright, l-look," he stammered, bringing his hand away from his face and intertwining his fingers, "I can't afford to cause another kerfuffle, so-"

"Notorious, are we?" Elinor ventured, raising her brows. "Already have quite a reputation for this?"

The boy didn't respond, but didn't deny her statement, either.

"Okay, lass, I'll make ye a deal. I'll retrieve yer crown-"

"And what, may I ask, will I be obligated to do in return?" the princess asked, wringing out her hair some more.

The boy frowned, furrowing his brow. "For royalty, ye're awfully rude. You have an awful habit of interruptin' people..."

"_I _am a lady." she stated matter-of-factly. "A lady does not interrupt, she _corrects." _

"Aye, aye. Whatever ye say. Now, here's the bargain: I will get yer crown if _you _promise to pretend this never happened." he said, finishing with a fold of his arms. She opened her mouth to speak, and he invited her to continue with a swift indication of his hand.

"I'd enjoy seein' ye try." she said with a slight chuckle of amusement.

"Look, do we have a deal, or not?" he asked, holding out his hand. Her amber eyes filled with wariness, and he rolled his eyes. "I won't try anythin', just trust me."

She exhaled and shook his hand lightly. With a smile, he began swimming away from her.

"Oh, almost slipped my mind!" he grinned, saluting her with confidence. "Ferguson of DunBroch, at yer service, Princess. But, please, call me Fergus."

As he continued to paddle away from her, she rose to her feet, placing her hands upon her hips.

"Elinor of Macdonald." she reciprocated, craning her body to get a better view of what he was doing.

In an instant, he was gone, having vanished after disappearing under the water. Elinor began to pace back and forth impatiently, and after what seemed like hours, Fergus submerged with a hearty gasp, tossing the princess her crown. She caught it gracefully, breathing a sigh of relief.

"Thank ye, thank ye," Fergus said humbly, climbing onto the bank with a bow, "ye're ever so kind."

His mouth curved into a crooked smile as he bowed quickly. Elinor shook her head, though her brown eyes studied him with admiration. Had he purposefully been making a fool of himself in the water? How eccentric lads could be!

"Madam, it's been quite a pleasure, but I must be off."

And with that, he began to saunter proudly away from her.

"Wait," she called out, "I must find some proper way to thank you. Don't go quite yet."

"I won't be a stranger." he hollered back, waving slightly. Elinor couldn't help but smile.

* * *

The queen treasured every moment she spent with her husband. He'd given her their children and all the love and happiness she could ask for. As rain began to patter upon the window, Elinor sighed, at last submitting to the clutches of sleep to the melody of her king's steady breathing.


	8. Chapter 8: Into the Elements

Chapter Eight

* * *

Princess Merida bolted upward in bed as a brisk gust of wind sailed through the window, carrying with it several small flakes of snow. The princess ripped back the sheets, slamming the window shut as vicious winds began to howl.

"Jings crivens help ma boab." she said sharply under her breath.

Winters could be quite harsh in the Highlands, and there were many a time where she had personal experiences with the full extent of the season's wrath.

Her Angus immediately came to mind; was he comfortable enough in his stable? Surely, he was. He had enough bales of hay and piles of oats to last a lifetime, not to mention a warm shelter to rest. In addition to that, the best stable hands in the Highlands had been hired to care for the clan's horses.

_I have nothin' to fret over. Angus is fine, the boys are safe and warm and their beds, Mum is with... Dad. Dad, what about Dad? _

She shook her head with a slight smile as she crawled back into bed. The gusts of fierce wind continued to batter the castle, and the princess couldn't help but feel that it was a bad omen of some sort. The sound of the wind screaming reminded her somewhat of the cry of a banshee, the mythical creature from a story her mother had recited to her long ago.

Merida pulled her quilt up beneath her chin, exhaling with a purse of her lips. Sure, the wisps were real, but the banshee most certainly wasn't. It was too farfetched – was it not? Her chilling cry was said to be a sign of death in a family. Merida felt her throat begin to close up, and she swallowed the lump beginning to form, rolling over and yanking the covers up above her shoulders.

She couldn't continue to think in such a pessimistic manner. Allowing herself to close her eyes, the princess finally relaxed, only opening them a mere second later as her mother entered her room in a tizzy. With a single glimpse at her mother's fearful eyes, Merida instinctively knew that something was dreadfully wrong.

"_Merida!" _she cried frantically. "Y-yer father," panted the queen, "he's gone. Ye didn't happen to hear anythin' out of the ordinary, did you?"

The princess' heart froze as she gazed at her flustered mother, who was leaning against the doorjamb for support, breathing heavily in her state of frantic worry.

"N-no," she said quietly, "no, Mum, nothin' at all."

She dared not mention a word about the mythical creature, despite it being a simple legend, as it could easily send the already crazed queen over the edge.

Merida instantly peeled back the covers and hurriedly put on her slippers before following her mother's lead as the queen began sauntering down the corridor, whispering the king's name for fear of awakening everyone in the castle.

"So, ye just woke up and he was gone?" Merida questioned as she cautiously opened a closet, continuing to tiptoe after her mother.

"Aye, dear, and I shan't rest until I find him." replied Elinor, the tone of her voice aching with concern.

As the mother and daughter scurried into the great hall, the queen grabbed a torch perched upon the wall before silently continuing.

"Do ye think he's in the castle somewhere?" Merida asked, although her questioned morphed into a rhetorical one, as she received no answer from her mother.

"Mum?" The monarch came to a halt, reaching out an arm to guard her daughter from peril. Merida squinted into the darkness, desperately trying to locate what was causing her mother to breathe so heavily and wildly.

There, before them, stood the king, his eyes piercing into his kin like daggers.

"Merida," the queen breathed, "don't ye dare move. Do ye understand me? _Not a muscle." _

She took a small step forward, flinching as her king growled menacingly at her. Did he not recognize her? After all these years they'd spent together, was he unable to distinguish her from an intruder in the state he was in?

"Fergus, dear," she squeaked, slowly taking a step towards her husband. The bear roared before following his wife's lead and taking a step forward.

Merida's palms quickly grew clammy, and she racked her brain in an effort to figure out what the best course of action would be. Her father was obviously no longer with them, or at least not aware of what he was doing. Fergus' claws raked the stone floor as he lumbered toward his wife and daughter, and the queen held out a hand.

"No, Mum, don't!" Merida cried, hastily snatching the torch from her mother's grasp and waving it at her father.

He backed away slowly, snarling angrily as his daughter threatened him with the flame. The events that followed appeared to occur in slow motion to the horrified queen. She watched in horror as her husband swiped a paw at his own child, smacking away the torch. It bounced upon the ground, and the flame, which had been glowing brightly up until that moment, flickered and went out. Merida stepped back, and Fergus followed in pursuit, lunging for her and pinning her on the ground. He raised a massive paw, readying his attack, the attack that would surely rip his daughter to pieces. Elinor instinctively sprung into action, grabbing the torch and reigniting the flame using a nearby candle. Reluctantly, she aimed the weapon at her love. She had to do it, for Merida's sake. There was no other alternative. As Merida screamed, her mother did as well. At the sight of her husband's jaws mere inches from their daughter's face, Elinor began to feel faint, but she spiraled into action nonetheless.

"_Fergus, don't you touch her!" _she shrieked, hurling the torch at the king. It pegged him square in the head, and he roared in agony, pawing at his face as cinders burned at his visage.

The queen's amber eyes welled with tears at the sight of her beloved's suffering, but she simply couldn't risk losing her darling daughter again, to another bear, nonetheless.

Several terrorizing moments passed, and as the queen hurriedly helped her daughter to her feet with a maternal embrace and a kiss upon her forehead, the king raised his head, panting heavily. He assessed his surroundings, and with widened, azure eyes, began backing away from his family. The terror in his wife and daughter's eyes was reason enough for him to take his leave. He was disgusted with himself. He abhorred himself. He was nothing but a beast – that's all he'd ever be.

"Merida, m'darlin', I am so sorry." Fergus whimpered. He pawed once more at his singed fur, creating a greater distance from his wife and daughter as Elinor began to approach him.

"Oh, Dad," Merida whispered, her voice choking up with emotion.

"Fergus, please. Don't do anythin' rash, now." cautioned Elinor.

"S-stay away from me, both of ye." grunted the king. He turned and began galloping away from them, faintly hearing an anxious call of his name from his wife.

Fergus continued to run. He ran as fast as his three paws and peg leg could carry him, and although he was unable to sprint at top speed, he was sufficiently able to outrun his wife and daughter. He avoided glancing back until he was out of the castle, and as he did so, he pricked up his ears, narrowly being able to pick up Elinor and Merida's faint voices. He exhaled and gazed at the snow-covered ground. Lifting up a humongous paw, he glared at the print he left, and smacked his paw upon the ground, erasing the sizable track left in the snow.

The sound of pounding hooves echoed through the landscape, and the king turned his head and spotted the castle a final time before beginning to start at a bound once more. In the midst of his frenzied sprint, he lost his footing, slipping upon the frozen ground and tumbling down a knoll, landing hard in a snowdrift.

With trembling legs, he weakly rose to his feet and shook off the white flakes clinging to his pelt of fur, and without hesitation, he took off once more. In the distance, he picked up the faint barking of his deerhounds, and he pumped his legs faster as his wife's voice accompanied the sound. He couldn't be near his Elinor, nor Merida or his boys. He would lose control again, of that he was certain, and he would do something he would regret – something that would cause him to be unable to continue living. If he were ever to cause harm to his family, Fergus would never be able to forgive himself. He would sooner throw his own life away.

Suddenly, he recognized his surroundings, and came to a screeching halt just before he plummeted in the raging river below. Several rocks fell free from the cliff beneath his weight, and he stepped back.

Fergus donned a determined gaze. As he studied the massive floes of ice floating down the perilous river below, he contemplated seriously about doing the unthinkable. This was it. He would simply end it – end it all, right now. After all, he was the biggest threat to his family at the moment. Due to his actions alone, they were in a constant state of danger, and he could no longer allow it. The blood coursing through his veins boiled at the thought of continuously putting his family in peril, and he could endanger them no longer. The river would be a quick and feasible way – in a matter of minutes, the frigid temperature of the water would easily bring his heartbeat steadily to a halt. Whether or not they would later on recover his body, he didn't know, nor did he care. Perhaps they would find him washed up upon the shore, battered by the harsh rapids and razor-sharp rocks, left cruelly and ironically in his human state.

He was, however, certain of one fact. Despite the circumstances, the king knew his clan would be heartbroken. Perhaps going through with taking his life wasn't the most logical decision, but it was definitely an option. If he were to perish, who would rally the clan and protect and defend their land from invaders? Who would guard his wife and children with their life? He would never witness his red-headed, fiery lass grow up and marry; he would never get to see his wee triplet sons grow into handsome, strong young lads; and perhaps most painful of all, he wouldn't get the chance to grow old with his queen, the love of his life.

With a defeated sigh, his conscience having successfully talked him out of committing the act he had been about to go through with, he turned away from the river, which was his cowardly way out.

"I can at least save them by gettin' away from them," he growled, ashamed at his ursine exterior.

And with that, he began to gallop once more, feeling the freezing temperatures and recent tumble down that icy hill begin to aggravate his injuries that he sustained earlier in the day. Within moments, the king began to grow weak, and in a bout of exhaustion, collapsed in a heap in the snow. His body felt strangely relaxed, as if the harsh winds were somehow alleviating the pain caused by his external injuries and his heartache.

In the midst of this restful period, he opened his eyes groggily, recalling a foggy memory of his Elinor. When she was only a simple, childhood friend to him, she constantly reminded him of being cautious during a blizzard in the Highlands whenever he happened to be out and about, as it could often grow deadly. She advised him to never fall asleep in the midst of a snowstorm, and although he considered these suggestions as fretful, unnecessary precautions at the time, he now thanked the stars for Elinor's advice.

Oh, his Elinor. Would he ever see her again? If she was fortunate, as she deserved to be, no, he would not have the pleasure of crossing paths with his lovely queen ever again.

He jolted into full consciousness as a bone chilling gust of wind stung at his back. He slowly rose to his feet once more by using his trembling legs, shuddering in the cold as the snow began falling harder. He lowered his head as he fought the wind, finding solace in a nearby hollow tree. Wearily, he plopped down in his temporary shelter, burrowing his way as deep as he could into the tree. Luckily, the shelter shielded his form from the harsh, howling wind, and he quickly fell into a deep sleep.

* * *

King Fergus stirred as several drops of water landed upon his snout, an indication that the night's storm had passed. He twitched his nose before rising to his feet and yawning audibly. With a long stretch, he crawled out of his den, squinting at the brightening morning sun peeking through the clouds. Only the occasional snowflake was cascading from the sky at this time, and he allowed his paws to sink into the melting piles of snow, digging his claws into the ground.

His face fell in disappointment at his physical state, and he began walking. Where, he wasn't sure, but he kept going nonetheless. He was thoroughly parched, and as he stopped by the river to quench his thirst, (the river, he reminded himself, where he had been seconds away from taking his own life, just a single leap from certain death) his ears perked up as he noticed a sound in the bushes, and he immediately swiveled around, baring his fangs with a low growl.

A figure emerged from the shadows, and the king's face morphed into an astounded expression. Standing before him, just mere feet away, was another bear. Moments passed before he realized his mouth was gaping, and he quickly used his paw to wipe away the remaining water dripping from his chin.

"Why, hello there." greeted the new face, and the king turned his head, making absolutely sure he was, in fact, the person, or _bear, _the lady before him was speaking to. Fergus turned to face her once more, raising a paw and indicating to himself. His new acquaintance giggled. "Aye, you."

"O-oh, er... h-hello." he stammered, sitting down slowly. The bear approached him, circling him slowly as she studied his entire form.

"I don't believe I've seen _you _around these parts before," she mentioned, coming to a halt before him. "Are ye new to the Highlands?"

"I-I guess ye could say... w-well, no, not exactly." mumbled the king. He scooted away from the bear as she began to lean in close, and he chuckled nervously.

"Name's Mollie. And you are...?" Her emerald-jade eyes glinted in the morning light, and Fergus' mouth curved into a slight, crooked smile.

"F-Fergus. Fergus of DunBroch." the king replied, flattening his ears and cowering slightly at the enamored simper the female offered him.

"Charmed," she said quietly. "Oh, ye must be exhausted after that horrible storm last night." she cooed, leaning in even closer to the king. "I know I am. Winters out here are so very dreadful, and it's ever so lonely when ye have no one to keep ye warm... no one to keep ye safe..."

As Mollie leaned in even closer, stopping mere inches from his face, Fergus decided it was high time to intervene. Though he knew it was quite impolite and that his wife would frown upon it, he was a happily married man. Although the king was often clueless, he could tell when a woman was pleading for him to woo her, as he had much experience with that before – at least, he thought he did.

"Oh, well perhaps ye could spend a night sometime at the castle DunBroch, if ye're in need of a shelter. O-of course I'd have to consult with my wife." he said, taking satisfaction in the expression Mollie's face morphed into.

"Yer... wife." she stated, quirking a brow and backing away from him. "Ye have a mate... and cubs, I suppose?"

"Aye, four..."

"Four wee cubs?"

"Aye... w-well, not exactly."

"Not... _exactly?" _She appeared to be skeptical.

"I wouldn't call them cubs. They're completely human, like my darlin' Elinor, and me, of course."

"Elinor. I see..."

She furrowed her brow, and the king smiled at the thought of his brown-eyed lass. He ached to be with her at that moment, but he was much too unpredictable to be near her.

Mollie cleared her throat, appearing to be coming to terms with the situation at hand. However, her next comment made the king somewhat uneasy. "Are ye faithful to yer mate, dear Fergus?"

"Of course I am!" he exclaimed, becoming more riled up by the second. How dare this stranger impose such a question upon him? Did she have ulterior motives for him in mind? "I love the queen with all my heart. I'd sooner die than hurt her."

"The queen, hm? So that makes _you..."_

"The king!" he snapped. "I am King Fergus!"

He scowled at her, though she simply chuckled in amusement, offering him a sultry smile.

"So ye're a _man." _she stated, receiving an affirmative nod from Fergus. "I have much experience dealing with creatures of yer kind. I do, indeed."

"Well, that's just grand, isn't it?" Fergus responded, feigning interest. He took a step forward, frowning as Mollie stepped in front of him, blocking his path. This lass was certainly beginning to rub him the wrong way.

"Ye must be starvin'." she said, concerned, attempting once more to gain his interest and attention. "Ye're wastin' away... doesn't yer _lovely_ Elinor feed ye?"

"I haven't the time for yer banter, lass." Fergus replied impatiently, continuing upon his path as she stepped aside.

"Hm. Ye know, I could manage to whip ye somethin' up." she offered nonchalantly, and Fergus ignored the bothersome growling of his own stomach.

"No, thank ye. I can take care of myself." he grunted irritably.

Despite the urge to turn around and accept her offer, he resisted the temptation. He had no clue where he would go next, but anywhere away from this Mollie was a safe bet.

"Men, ye're all the same," she sighed.

He stopped in his tracks and turned to face her once more. "Now, what's that supposed to mean?" he interrogated, feeling the hair on his back beginning to bristle.

"Nothin', nothin'," she replied coyly, turning on her heels and facing the river. "Just thought ye may be hungry, is all."

"W-well, m'not." he growled defensively.

Mollie shrugged with a chuckle as she hopped gracefully on to a nearby rock jutting out of the water.

"Suit yerself, lad."

She grinned as a fish leaped out of the rapids, and she snatched it with perfect precision. The Bear King stood, astonished. Though he hated to admit it, this display captured his attention. As an expert marksman himself, Fergus was always intrigued by skills he had yet to learn.

"Hey, now," he marveled, his face brightening ever so slightly, "'tis quite a skill ye have there. H-how'd ye learn to..."

"Practice makes perfect." she said vaguely, and the king quirked a brow.

"_Perfect _practice makes perfect." he corrected, reciting one of Queen Elinor's most renowned quips.

Fergus could recall the countless times his wife had chastised his daughter for being remiss in practicing her harp, or hurrying through the task with little care.

"I see." Mollie chuckled. "Well then, royal, have at it. Show me what ye've got."

She gestured toward the water with a paw, and the king sat upon his haunches.

"I dunno," he said, rubbing the back of his head with a paw. "I-I've never really..."

"There's a first time for everythin'." she replied with a smile, and the king frowned at her.

In an instant, she leaped in front of him, carrying a lively trout in her mouth, and cocked her head with a smirk. Fergus rolled his eyes, but as Mollie held the offering out to him, the scent of the fish hit his nose, and his bear instincts took over. He took the fish in his mouth, shuddering as his nose brushed against Mollie's for an instant. He gulped and nervously placed the fish upon the ground, pushing it around with his snout. The smell was horrid, and he truthfully didn't wish to consume the food, despite the gnawing hunger he was experiencing. He hadn't had a meal since the evening before, when his queen had been so kind as to have it delivered to him.

"Well?" Mollie asked, impatient.

Fergus raised his head to gaze at her, and the bear offered him a smile. He straightened up his form, as he towered over her, and held his gaze upon her.

"It's been a pleasure, lass, and I thank ye for yer kind concern, but I must be goin'." he said, nodding at her cordially.

He turned and began his trek, halting several seconds later. His large form wracked with a shudder, and an unpleasant urge began to settle upon him. Fergus turned around and gazed at Mollie, suddenly seeing her in an entirely new light. His legs began to move, as if he had no control over his actions. He raised his head up and released an empowered roar, establishing his dominance over the land and the female before him. The king began to lumber toward her, and to his discontent, the lass grinned, seductively gazing at him.

His heart and mind were screaming at him, pleading to somehow paralyze himself and render him immobile so to avoid going through with the act he was about to commit. In an instant, the king regained control over his actions, and he immediately turned on his heels and raced into the glen.

This was perhaps the most revolting idea he'd ever been associated with. The king had been seconds away from betraying his love, and he couldn't stand for it. He would get away – somewhere where he could seclude himself from everyone and everything.

A moment later, much to the king's dismay, his sensitive ears picked up the sound of thundering hooves, and his nose picked up something far worse – the scent of his queen.


	9. Chapter 9: A Confession to Make

Chapter Nine

* * *

Fergus' muscular form became plagued with tension. His wife was growing closer and closer, and he was torn. Despite the urge to respond to the calling of his name, for it was being spoken in his queen's smooth brogue (which the king happened to find practically irresistible), he also longed to tear off into the glen where he could safely be concealed and out of sight, not to mention preserve his wife's life and well-being in the process.

He glanced back in the opposite direction, drooping his ears in shame. He couldn't run from his problems forever, could he?

Fergus adored his family more than anything; therefore, he had to make the right choice. No matter what decision he made, he would inevitably put his wife and children in peril. It was just a matter of which path was worse to choose.

In the midst of his thoughts, an unseen force decided his fate for him (perhaps the wisps?) and Elinor's powerful horse came into view. The king's eyes twinkled at the sight of his admirable, fair lady upon her steed.

Her chestnut locks danced a ballet in the breeze as she dismounted her dapple-gray stallion, and he received a brief glimpse of his love's gorgeous, brown orbs (which, he noticed, were frenzied on his behalf) before she hoisted her skirts up in bunches with her hands and propelled herself towards him.

The king's cerulean eyes filled with fear as Elinor showed no indication of slowing her pace, and before he could react, she flung her arms around his neck and captured him in a hug.

"Oh, Fergus," she breathed, "thank heavens I found ye. I found ye at last."

Her voice was slightly hoarse, as if the previous night's blizzard had taken a toll on her health. Fergus' heart wrenched at the sound, and as he attempted to squirm out of her embrace for fear of causing her harm, she squeezed him tighter, holding him in a vice grip.

When he realized his efforts were purely futile, he succumbed to her tenderness and returned the affection with a loving nuzzle and enamored, soft growl. It felt so natural to be in her arms, and she in his... paws. He lightly draped a paw behind her back and brought her closer.

Despite the horror he had caused the queen the night before, it didn't appear to have an effect on the love she evidently harbored for him. He would simply have to learn to control his outbursts if he should be placed in such a situation.

His low, baritone voice surfaced slightly from within his bear growl, and the queen raised her head as the sound emanating from her husband arrived at her ears.

"C-come, dear," she invited, a tenacious simper beginning to form at the corners of her lips, as she had a feeling within her heart that her king was so very close to changing back, at least for the time being.

And with that precious time they had together, she would relish every waking moment, and the long hours she would spend asleep in his arms after they indulged in what she hoped he would also be willing to engage in.

Of course he would, there wasn't a doubt in her mind that he wouldn't. Elinor was well acquainted with her love's enthusiastic, childlike nature. In addition to this, he showed undying loyalty towards her, as he rarely questioned her motives or decisions.

Fergus began to sense his racing heartbeat calm, and upon his four legs, he escorted his wife back to her horse.

She climbed aboard her steed, taking the reins lightly in her hands. She ordered Barnaby to walk, frowning as Fergus glanced over his shoulder into the abyss of the thick forest.

"Fergus, ye're comin' home." she stated authoritatively, drilling into his blue eyes with her amber.

"I... yes, dear." he sighed, lowering his head. He knew that any effort to argue would be fruitless, and the notion of spending some time with the queen, _alone, _in private, was quite inviting indeed.

* * *

Safely hidden away in the privacy of their room, the queen and the bear king finally received the time alone and together that they so fervently desired.

Though the queen was disenchanted at the prospect of being unable to act intimately with her husband, she cherished the moments that they were spending together with all her heart.

As she sat upon the bed, the king settled upon the floor and placed his head in her lap, gazing lovingly into her eyes as she fondled his ears expertly with her hands. At the sound of her weary, crestfallen sigh, he produced a low whine and affectionately placed a giant paw upon her knee. The queen smiled, caressing his face and tickling beneath his chin. He closed his eyes in a state of euphoria, sighing at the heavenly contact.

"I love you," he said gently, the three words flowing distinctly from his mouth. They sounded unusually human-like, comparable to that of a man. Elinor's eyes brightened as she came to the glorious revelation that her husband's transformation was imminent.

He began to breathe heavily, though his mouth morphed into an ecstatic grin. His wife offered him an expectant smile, observing with joyful eyes as Fergus began to morph. The blinding, blue light surrounded him, and within mere moments, it faded. The king was left standing completely human, his sculpted chest and broad shoulders heaving with heavy breaths.

"Elinor," he murmured, outstretching his arms and grinning warmly. Though his queen was beaming wider than he'd ever witnessed, her soft, amber eyes widened as she raised her brows.

"Oh, erm, darling," she cooed quietly, stifling a giggle with one delicate hand and pointing downward with her other. Fergus darted his eyes in the direction in which his wife was gesturing, and she glanced up at his crimson visage with another wholehearted chuckle.

"E-er, um, 'scuse me, m'lady," he murmured apologetically, inching closer to their bed with a sheepish, boyish grin as his wife responded with a laugh.

"It's quite alrightl," she replied softly, patting the bed invitingly. He readily complied with his love's evident wishes, and he excitedly took his place beside her on the mattress. The royal couple leaned back upon the bed together, instantly feeling the harmony they shared between one another.

"Oh, just let me look at ye," she said gently, caressing his jawline with both of her hands. "I want ye to know I... may have given some news about this kerfuffle to the clan," she whispered, gazing expectantly at her love.

King Fergus groaned, pouting rather childishly and helplessly. Before her husband could protest, she spoke once more. "I felt lost, Fergus," she replied, gazing at him with concern. "I needed guidance, dear."

He sighed once more, and after she kissed him on his lips, immediately assuaging his ill feelings, she continued, "I'm so glad nothin' happened to ye while ye were out in that storm." She shook her head in disapproval. "A number of things could've befallen ye. Y-ye could've caught yer death, or lost yer way. And, oh, the river." she said, sighing in relief and taking solace in the fact that her beloved was beside her and safe. "The rapids are so dangerous this time of year. I-I don't even want to imagine what could have happened to ye if... i-if..." Her voice trailed off as it began to choke up with emotion, and she cleared her throat daintily, reminding herself that her Fergus was here, with her – right here. "I want ye to be thoroughly inspected in the infirmary later on, do ye understand? And I want ye to get plenty of bed rest, and drink some warm broth. I don't want ye to risk losin' yer voice. I still plan on nursin' that cold of yers, not to mention tend to these dreadful scratches," she said, examining the claw marks still showing on his skin and touching them with a gentle hand. "Don't expect me to accept any excuses from ye." As she noticed her husband becoming distant, she reiterated, "Dear, do I make myself clear? Fergus?"

His blue eyes gazed solemnly into hers, and he tenderly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She raised a hand and grasped his arm, mirroring his somber orbs with her amber. "What's wrong, love?" Disappointment brimmed in her voice, afraid she had unintentionally coaxed her husband out of the mood. "Is there somethin' you need to speak with me about?" Elinor knew her husband like no other, and whenever he was exceptionally quiet, something was most definitely on his mind.

"Aye, dear." he replied, stroking his mustache, his trademark sign of anxiety. The last thing he wanted to do was worry her about the decision he nearly made, but it had been persistently plaguing his mind. Fergus had no idea what his wife's reaction would be, but he knew she disapproved of his keeping anything from her. "E-Elinor, dear," he murmured timorously, "I-I nearly did somethin' very rash." He awaited her response with sincere eyes, a subtle fear contained within them. Her tender expression quickly turned concerned, as she was unable to grasp the true meaning of her husband's words.

"What do ye mean, dear?" she inquired, pulling the thick quilt now covering them over her shoulder.

Fergus hesitated. The evident worry in her voice alerted him to her suspicion. "Elinor, I know ye don't appreciate it when I keep anythin' from you, so I'm just goin' to tell ye, aye?"

"Yes, dear," she replied hesitantly, not taking any comfort at the serious tone of her husband's voice. Normally, he was overtly lighthearted, and most assuredly never postponed any opportunity to act romantically with her. He was acting uncharacteristically.

"Eli, as I mentioned, I almost went through with somethin' that wasn't... so wise. Somethin' I have a feelin' ye'd frown upon..."

"Y-yes?" she pressed, grasping his arm, displaying her tension. "Be out with it, Fergus."

"I c-came quite close to takin' my life in that river last night." The string of words spewed from his mouth, immediately causing his anxious lass' gorgeous visage to grow pale.

"Wh-what?" she questioned, hoping she hadn't heard him correctly. Oh, she prayed she hadn't heard him correctly. "Do... do ye m-mean..." She swallowed the growing lump in her throat, though it pained her severely to hear such news from her beloved. To even imagine Fergus having such a notion enter his mind for a second was horrific.

Her king added hastily, "Eli, Eli, I'm right here. Right next to ye. I didn't go through with it." His large hands were brought up to her cheeks, aiding her dark curtains of locks in framing her face. She covered her mouth with her hand, trying to stifle a sob that threatened to escape. Her liquid, brown eyes drilled into his with a seriousness that nearly intimidated him. A single tear coursed down her cheek, and the queen buried her face in her husband's bare chest, attempting once more to muffle a sob. Rapidly, she placed her hands upon his shoulders and leaned back, gazing into his eyes.

"D-do you even have any earthly idea," she breathed as he wiped a tear away from her face with the pad of his thumb, "what pain the last few days has caused me? What I would do if I were to lose you?"

"Eli," he murmured, a grave expression upon his face, "I had no idea."

The queen turned her head away from him, and after receiving an affectionate kiss to her temple, the terribly distressed and troubled monarch allowed her lip to quiver ever so slightly.

"Pl-please, Elinor, don't cry over this," he pleaded, his voice becoming muffled as he buried his face in her shoulder and spoke into her midnight-blue satin gown. "I love you," he whispered sentimentally with a certain fondness.

The queen remained silent, but she faintly sensed her body reacting to his loving touch as a rosy tinge became noticeable upon her cheeks. Her brown eyes locked with his quite confident blue, and her cheeks grew all the warmer.

"A-and I love you," she affirmed, allowing her limpid eyes to wander back to his form. "S-so I don't want to hear any more talk such as that from you. _Ever._" She glanced briefly over his shoulder at the steadily falling snow, taking solace in the roaring fireplace lit in their room.

A subtle grin swept across his face, and he inquired in a low, mischievous tone of voice with a playful quirk of his brow, "Now that that's all settled, do ye think, maybe we could, well..."

His queen glanced back at him, softening her amber orbs as she gently touched her lips to his. "...f-finish what we started? Certainly, dear. It wouldn't be queenly of me to leave a responsibility partially finished, nor kingly of you, either."

Though she still felt lasting pain, and was resisting the powerful urge to break down in front of her husband, deep from within her she sensed the familiar, fluttering sensation of her own stomach, an indication of her growing excitement. Fergus gave an eager chuckle before rubbing his hands together with anticipation.

"Grand," he said gruffly. "C'mere, you. Ye keep me waitin' far too long, woman."

She hastily began to shed her garments, and as they both sensed each other becoming ready for one another, she placed a kiss upon his nose and stroked his whiskers, the beginnings of a full-fledged beard, with a gentle hand.

He, in turn, provided her with some subtle, loving contact as he placed his hands upon her waist, beginning to fumble with the intricate ladies' garment known as the infamous corset. The king recalled that day, many years ago, when he first became acquainted with his Elinor's garment. He remembered how he had turned beet-red – how he couldn't have possibly fathomed sharing an intimate moment with her without blushing fiercely. Elinor hummed with laughter as she gently removed his hands and expertly untied her corset, carelessly allowing it to drop to the floor.

"Ah, thank ye, dear," Fergus sighed. "Never have been able to figure that thing out."

Elinor regarded him with adoration, and kissed him quickly and playfully several times upon his lips, as she adored teasing him. She took an extremely slight, sadistic satisfaction in his flustered reaction to her flirtatious behavior.

With a juvenile groan, much like that of her daughter's, her husband touched his forehead to hers. "What are we waitin' for?"

"Nothin'," she whispered sharply and excitedly, "nothin' at all..."

The king began kissing his wife's creamy complexion, his hunger for his beloved queen gnawing away at him as he allowed his mouth to wander back upward so he could appreciate the taste of his queen's lips. His large hands wandered downward, smiling in the kiss he was sharing with Elinor as his palms came into contact with the many goosebumps forming on her skin.


	10. Chapter 10: A Visit to DunBroch

Chapter Ten

* * *

As the afternoon sun shone upon the snowy peaks, the thundering sound of hooves could be heard echoing throughout the landscape, pounding through the drifts of snow.

Princess Merida loosed an impassioned cry of joy as she ripped back the hood of her cloak, allowing her curls to whip in the wind, and Angus echoed her outburst with an enthusiastic whinny. As the princess brought Angus down to a trot, she sighed in content.

"Do ye s'pose Maudie's begun preparin' dinner yet, Angus?" she inquired, and her stallion tossed back his head and allowed his mane to flow in the wind, relishing the sense of freedom he and his master were feeling. "I know, lad, I'm starvin'!"

As Merida and her steed approached the main gates of the castle, the princess' azure eyes narrowed at the sight of a potential stranger approaching the gates. This intruder puzzled Merida; she hadn't been aware of her parents engaging in any diplomatic duties on this day.

She dug her heels into Angus' sides, bringing him into a canter and approaching the newcomer. The powerful Clydesdale snorted, startling the cloaked figure. It drew back, flinching.

"Can I do somethin' for ye?" Merida asked, warily studying the visitor before her. Slowly, the individual tugged back the hood of their cloak, exhaling a cloudy breath into the crisp air.

"Hello, there..." the woman said hesitantly, gazing up at the princess atop her horse. The stranger brushed back a lock of blonde hair and tucked it behind her ear, rubbing her hands up and down her arms in an effort to warm herself.

"Hullo..." Merida mumbled questioningly, dismounting Angus with a swift slide out of the saddle. "Um, I don't mean to be rude, but... what are ye doin' here?"

"Oh, erm, well..."  
The woman's jade-colored eyes locked with Merida's azure ones as the princess studied the newcomer. The stranger spoke again.

"I-I seem to have lost my way. I don't know these parts like the back of my hand, as I'm sure _you _do, young lady."

Merida was for the most part unfazed by the woman's obvious effort to flatter her, but clutched the reins of Angus' bridle and offered her a slight smile nonetheless.

"'Course," she said, gesturing with her hand toward the gate. "Erm, come with me, then. I'll just fetch my parents. I'm sure they'll be able to figure somethin' out."

Merida beckoned the woman to follow her, and she willingly obliged. The princess led Angus to the stables, releasing the horse from his bridle and pouring some grain for him. As he began to gobble his pile of food, Merida turned to her guest.

"I'm Merida," she said warmly, offering a hand to her, "the princess."  
"Mary," the woman replied with a grin, bowing. "Lady Mary. Pleased to make yer acquaintance."

"Likewise," Merida muttered, donning a slight frown at Mary's sudden, pleasured smile.

Without another exchange of words, the duo retreated to the doors of the castle, and Merida casually opened them.

"Mum, I'm home," she called out, adding with a slightly nervous chuckle, "and, we have a visitor..."

Merida glanced up at her mother gliding down the stairs, sliding her hand gracefully upon the railing.

"What's this, dear?" questioned the monarch, approaching her daughter with a motherly embrace. "Oh, Merida, I do hope ye bundled up while ye were out there. I don't want ye exposed to such frigid conditions..."

As Elinor lightly touched the fabric of her child's cloak, Merida darted her eyes toward Mary, who stood before the mother and daughter, studying them with a pair of inquisitive, green eyes.

"Oh," said the queen quietly, clasping her hands together. "Welcome to our home. Please, come in."

Elinor gestured down the hallway before stepping forward, leading her guest and daughter down the corridor and into a small parlor.

"Please take a seat," she offered genially, indicating to a chair.  
"Thank ye," Mary responded, taking her seat across from Elinor and Merida. "I don't mean to cause ye any trouble..."

"Oh, it's no trouble at all," Elinor replied, offering Mary a smile. "I am Queen Elinor. I'm sure ye've already become acquainted with my daughter, Princess Merida."

"Lady Mary." Mary replied with a nod. "Aye, such a charmin' family ye have," she observed, her eyes brightening as the trio caught a glimpse of the king sauntering down the hallway, his two Scottish deerhounds in hot pursuit.

"Oh, darling!" Elinor called, causing Fergus to stop short. He turned and traipsed casually into the room, approaching his wife and daughter with a grin.

"Aye, love?"

The king's brow furrowed at the sight of Mary, who offered him a cordial smile.

"Fergus, dear, this is our guest, Lady Mary. M'lady, this is my husband, King Fergus."

"Pleased to meet you, my king," Mary said with a slight bow of her head.

The two dogs made their entrance, faithfully bounding towards their master. They both made their rounds, wagging their tails amiably as they greeted Fergus, Elinor, and Merida.

At the sight of the stranger, the animals suddenly raised their noses into the air, curling their lips and baring their teeth. With a low growl, one of them lunged at the Lady with a fierce bark. Fergus narrowly managed to restrain the dog before he caused damage to his target.

"Seamus!" Elinor cried, glancing up at her husband, who was straining at the dog's ineffable determination. "Down, lad!"

Seamus silenced his outburst at the sound of his master's harsh tone, and fell to the floor in submission. He whined and gazed up at the queen with solemn, black eyes. Seconds later, his companion gave a threatening howl, snarling at their guest.

As this occurrence was going on, Merida studied Lady Mary with narrowed eyes. Something about this woman was antagonizing the family's trusted pets, a fact that roused the princess' subconscious, wary instincts.

"Donnan, what has gotten into ye?" demanded Elinor in a harsh tone. "Fergus, do somethin'!"

The queen rose to her feet in an attempt to aid her husband as he grabbed the dog, though he raised a hand and indicated for her to stay away.

Seeing as how Seamus and Donnan had suddenly become quite unpredictable, Fergus didn't wish to run the risk of putting his wife in harm's way.

"Oh, dear," Mary said fearfully, inching away from the enraged dog. "I do believe yer dog has a dislike for me."

The king mustered his strength and lifted a writhing Donnan from the floor, carrying him to the door and shooing him away. He whistled for Seamus, who loyally responded, following his companion. Both dogs glanced back over their shoulders with menacing growls directed at the woman they had deemed an enemy, and Fergus slammed the door shut, panting in heavy breaths.

"I-I am sorry, lass, they've never..." he stammered, inhaling in an attempt to catch his breath, "...n-never acted up like that before."

"Oh, that's just as well. I've never really cared for dogs, after all." Mary replied, resting her hands upon her lap.

"Still, we're terribly sorry." sighed the queen. "They're normally so mild-mannered." Elinor turned her head to gaze at her husband with concern. "Are ye alright, dear?" she inquired of her king, lightly touching his arm.

"Aye," he replied breathlessly, pulling up a chair and taking a seat beside the queen.

"Such a capable man, ye are, King Fergus," Mary marveled, cocking her head and folding her arms in admiration. She neglected to notice the distasteful scowl that the princess was giving her.

"Oh?" Fergus chuckled modestly, lacing his fingers together. "Well, I s'pose so..."

"Och, there's no supposin'." Mary scoffed. "Ye _are _quite the marksman, I see," she observed, glancing at the many trophies mounted upon the walls. "But, practice makes perfect, hm?"

"A-aye, I guess it does." Fergus agreed, glancing at his wife.

Elinor smoothed her dress before rising to her feet.

"I'm most certain that Maudie has finished preparin' dinner by now," she mentioned, avoiding Mary's and Fergus' gaze. Though she tried to avoid being the jealous type, she inherently was. The woman before her was utterly harmless, but Elinor made it her priority to establish her dominance as the queen, nonetheless.

Fergus and Merida stood, as well did Mary. The king linked arms with his queen, who possessively placed a hand upon his forearm, allowing her wedding ring to glint in the sunlight pouring through the extravagant, large window in the room.

Much to Merida's dismay, the queen had insisted on inviting their guest (who was unwelcome in Merida's eyes) to dinner that evening, and assured the poised intruder the royal family had come to know as Lady Mary that she would ask one of Fergus' men to escort her back to her clan first thing in the morning.

Merida viewed this as a grave mistake on her mother's part. Couldn't she see how distressed both Seamus and Donnan were at the arrival of that woman? These were the dogs that could constantly be counted on to serve as protectors to nearly everyone in the family at any given time, and the queen seemed to be blind to their warnings. But, Merida most assuredly wasn't, and she resolved to keep a watchful eye on the Lady.

From the moment Mary stepped into the castle, Merida had been wary, and now, she detested her. The way the woman praised her father was something the princess deemed very inappropriate.

It wasn't until the family and the Lady sat down to dinner that Merida became all the more suspicious.

* * *

"Boys, would ye stop fidgetin'?" the queen scolded, gazing at her squirming sons. Their blue eyes were settled upon their dinner guest, who neatly placed her napkin upon her lap.

"Now, aren't you three the cutest wee things? Ye're the spittin' image of yer father!" Mary marveled, her green eyes glimmering in the candlelight. Merida furrowed her brow at her.

"Yes, they are," Elinor replied matter-of-factly, though her voice indicated that her mind was elsewhere.

Hamish, Hubert, and Harris blinked before glancing at each other and then averting their gaze to their sister. Merida shrugged and folded her arms.

The Lady cleared her throat as several cooks strutted into the room with an assortment of platters. They set them upon the table in front of each occupied seat before swiftly retreating back into the kitchen.

Fergus eagerly lifted the lid off of his plate, eying the steaming food with anticipation, and his children followed his example. Mary also hesitantly mimicked their actions.

Elinor glanced at her husband, who was seated beside her, then down at his plate.

"Oh no, dear, that won't do." she said, shaking her head.

"What's wrong with it?" inquired the king, his face falling.

"I think it's best if ye have some soup." she said, sliding his plate towards her. "Ye'll thank me later."

"I can't have just a cup of broth, woman! I'm starvin'!" he whined, sliding it back towards him.

"I'm not goin' to argue with you, Fergus. I want to be sure ye make a full recovery-"  
"Och, not this again, Elinor..."

"I'm only lookin' out for yer well-bein'." she insisted.

"I know, lass, but..."

"Maudie!"

Merida cleared her throat and turned her attention from her parents' banter at the opposite end of the table to the Lady, who was directly to her right.

"So, Lady Mary," she began, faking a smile, "tell me about yerself."

The woman accepted her false interest.

"Well, young lady, I am a highly respected diplomat for my clan. I live just a hop and a skip away from the land of DunBroch, but I'm not too familiar with the surroundings around here."

"Oh, really?" Merida mused, lifting her fork and beginning to take small bites of her haggis, which she still wasn't accustomed to despite years of consuming it.

"Aye." the Lady replied, taking a sip of water.

"So ye live with yer family, then?" Merida asked, glancing at the woman.

She was her senior by a fair, substantial amount, but she was nowhere near elderly. She had an attractive, rounded face with high cheekbones, and her face was framed with locks of blonde hair, which for the most part was tied back in a short braid. Her face was dotted with extremely faint freckles; her cheeks glowed with a rosy hue. Though many would consider her as fair, Merida was in no way impressed by her attributes, as her attitude toward the woman was unchanged.

"My brother," she replied rather vaguely, smoothing a nonexistent wrinkle in her salmon-colored gown. "Alistair."

"Mhm," Merida grunted, popping a slice of seasoned potato into her mouth.

"My parents passed away when Alistair and I were both in our youth," she continued, "and for the most part we were raised by our aunt."

"Oh!" Merida said, raising her voice as she feigned an intrigued aura.

"Yes," Mary said quietly, taking a swig of her water once more.

Merida slightly pitied the woman, but most certainly didn't trust her.

"So, do ye have... any children?" she inquired.

"No."

"Pets?"

"No, dear."

"Maybe... a lad?"

"Goodness, no."

"I see." Merida sighed, officially giving up with the task of making conversation with her family's disdainful guest. Truthfully, she was bored.

The princess gazed across the table at her parents. Her father, she deduced, had lost the argument against her mother, as he sat hunched over a bowl of steaming broth. The queen held a smile of satisfaction upon her face as her husband spooned soup into his mouth. The king was considerably less enthusiastic.

"So, King Fergus, are all these trophies yours?" Mary marveled, glancing about the room at the numerous creatures mounted upon the walls, intrigued. Fergus allowed his spoon to clang upon the table as he carelessly dropped it, and his queen raised her brows. He reveled in telling tales of his daring feats.

"Aye, aye," he assured her with a proud smile, leaning back in his chair. "What, erm... what catches yer eye?"

"Oh, they're all lovely," she breathed, clasping her hands together before her face with a joyful grin.

"My personal favorite is that beast over..." His voice trailed off as he had his epiphany. He didn't dare to continue with his statement, for fear of touching upon a sensitive topic for his queen. The king gazed lovingly at Elinor for a moment before lightly taking her hand in his. His wife's mouth curved into a touched smile, and his heart swelled with adoration for her as her beautiful amber eyes softened as she was put at ease.

"Oh, yes, the bear is very... impressive." Mary said with a nod.  
Fergus gave Elinor's hand a gentle squeeze, assuaging the sick feeling in her stomach. She managed a smile at the Lady, who was still chattering away about the king's trophies.

"Mother, father, may I be _excused?" _she interjected, rising quickly from the table.

The king and queen raised their heads in concern. Fergus glanced at Elinor.

"Dear?" he inquired of his wife.

"Yes, darling," Elinor replied to her daughter. The queen narrowed her amber eyes, her maternal instincts alerting her to something concerning her flustered child. "Are ye feelin' alright?"

"Yes, Mum," Merida said, sighing as relief washed over her mother's face. "I'm just not really hungry this evenin'. I'm... I'm a wee bit tired." she confessed, running a hand through her curls.

"Go on then, lass," Fergus said.

"Thank ye, Mum, Dad." Merida said, relieved. She had to get out of this situation, to heal her tension. As she turned and took her leave, making her way up to her room, she clenched her fists at the sound of Lady Mary's voice.

Something was off about that woman, and Merida abhorred the fact that she couldn't place her finger on it. She'd get to the bottom of it – and if she had anything to do with it, Lady Mary would not have the pleasure of visiting the Clan DunBroch again anytime soon.


	11. Chapter 11: An Epiphany Over Wine

Chapter Eleven

* * *

As a pleasant, sleepy darkness settled upon the kingdom, the king and queen assured their children were all in their beds before exchanging more conversation with their guest. King Fergus, though he normally wasn't so generous regarding his private reserve of assorted wines, was more than willing to delve into his collection with his queen. He was noticeably disenchanted when his wife extended his invitation to the Lady, however. Queen Elinor, as the diplomat of the clan, was thoroughly prepared to be a welcoming hostess at a moment's notice, a quality her husband both admired and disliked.

* * *

"We don't often have company, with the exception of the other lords," Elinor mused, observing her king with watchful, amber eyes as he served up the precious delicacy into three glasses.

Fergus periodically glanced up upon Mary with his blue eyes, timorously retracting his gaze and averting his orbs back downward with a clear of his throat whenever her green eyes locked with his.

"It's quite kind of ye to allow me to stay for the night, Yer Highness," Mary mentioned respectfully with a bow of her head, and the queen donned a smile.

"Pleasure's all ours," Fergus stated quietly. Firmly gripping the bottle, he carefully placed it upon the wooden table whilst being cautious not to allow any of the valuable contents to slosh over the rim.

Mary brought her chalice to her pursed lips, daintily taking a sip of wine as Elinor followed her example. The queen then averted her eyes from the Lady to her eerily silent consort beside her.

He was far too quiet for her tastes. It was rather abnormal for him to act this way. In addition to his introverted behavior, he had yet to consume his glass of liquor and start on a second; was he feeling ill?

Fergus stoically sat to her left, eyes forward and void of emotion – an abyss. It worried Elinor somewhat. As she laid a gentle hand upon his shoulder, he momentarily jumped, his body becoming firm with tension as a natural defense.

"Are ye alright, Fergus?" she inquired with concern, capturing his gaze with her amber eyes. She was taken aback at his sudden sensitivity.

"H-huh?" he grunted, turning to face her. "What didja say, dear?"

"Are ye not feeling well? Ye're very distant tonight," she observed, raising a delicate hand to lightly touch his forehead. The queen feared his fever may have returned. Elinor was well aware that the king had a habit of becoming quiet whenever he was feeling under the weather.

"N-no, I'm... I'm..." He swallowed mid-sentence as he drifted off once more.

"Fergus..." Elinor pressed, squeezing his arm.

"F-fine," he finished, snapping back to reality. "Fit as a fiddle." He put on a forced smile, appeasing his queen.

The king at last brought his drink up to his mouth and tossed it back, chugging the wine without a single pause for a breath.

"Oh, Yer Majesty, I'm sure he's just a bit jittery after all that's happened within the last couple of days..." Mary mentioned nonchalantly, causing the king's ingestion of his wine to come to a screeching halt.

Fergus began to sputter and cough violently, bringing a hand to his throat as he attempted to catch his breath, gulping in mouthfuls of oxygen as his chest heaved. Elinor rolled her eyes, gently patting her hand upon her husband's back despite her disapproval of his ill mannered actions.

"Fergus, I've told you time and again..." she began in her scolding, though the words that had escaped Mary's lips captured her attention. "Wait, m'lady," she spoke hesitantly, "I'm afraid I don't quite understand what ye mean by-"

"Oh, ye know what I meant, Yer Highness." Mary replied vaguely, waving her glass in circles and watching the wine as it swished perpetually. "Just his kingly duties. I'm sure they're terribly troublesome. Am I correct, my king?"

"A-a-aye, I g-guess ye could say that..." Fergus squeaked with uncertainty, his deep, booming voice cracking slightly with anxiety. Mary briefly raised her brows in a coquettish manner, causing an ill feeling to form in the pit of the king's stomach.

"Oh, yes," was Elinor's response, placing a hand upon her husband's.

Fergus still refused to speak. He longed to be able to form words, but he couldn't. This... _Mary. _She was all too familiar – her eyes, her voice, her mannerisms. He knew her from somewhere. The king searched his mind for a possible hint as to who this mysterious woman was, but was inevitably rendered utterly unable to fathom who her true identity was. Unfortunately, he was far too fatigued to collect his muddled thoughts.

* * *

Elinor, though she was cocooned in numerous layers of blankets, was thoroughly chilled, and she shivered as she rolled over, seeking the warmth that usually radiated from her husband's side of the bed. Wishing to cuddle in order to endearingly take advantage of her husband's body heat, she inched closer to where her love normally lay, which was rightfully by her side. As her skin came in contact with the cooled sheets, her amber eyes opened, becoming alert and filled with concern.

The sheets on his side of their bed were mussed and tangled, as if he had been tossing and turning wildly. Elinor reached a hand into the darkness, placing her palm upon the mattress, and her heart jumped at the realization that her dear husband was absent.

Rapidly, she sat up in bed, her chestnut locks spilling over her shoulders. The queen glanced about with a wary expression and a nearly inaudible yet incredibly frantic whisper of her king's name, allowing her worrisome nature to convince her mind of the worst. Seconds before she nearly ripped back the covers to go in search of her missing beloved, the door creaked open and the man in question traipsed in, his eyes to the ground as he thoughtfully rubbed his scruffy beard.

"Fergus, _what_ are ye doin'?" she interrogated as she brought her hand to her heart, finding her tone of voice more accusing than she had intended.

"Hm? What?" he said in a daze, glancing up at her through the veil of darkness.

"Where have you been?" his wife pressed.

"Just takin' a wee walk," he sighed. "Did I awaken ye?"

"No, Fergus. But ye did gave me a fright when I woke up to find ye gone."

"I just can't sleep, Eli," he replied distantly, crawling back into bed beside her. "I'm sorry I worried ye, love."

Elinor instantly wrapped her arms around his as he took his place beside her, hugging his bicep and sustaining solace in the fact that he had been in no immediate danger. He turned to face her, tenderly bumping his forehead to his noticeably anxious queen.

She placed a comforting kiss upon his cheek before chuckling warmly. "Collywobbles? I know how ye get when ye have a _wee_ bit too much of yer drink." she teased cordially, emphasizing her point by pinching her index finger and thumb together.

"No," he sighed wearily. With a solemn expression, he sprawled out upon the mattress, lacing his fingers together behind his head and cradling it in his palms. "Just thinkin' some."

"What's on yer mind, darling?" ventured Elinor as she settled down beside him, at last receiving his excess amount of warmth as she embraced him, clinging to him with a firm but gentle grasp.

"I dunno if I really want to talk about it, m'dear," he admitted, leaning on his elbow and propping his head up by resting it in his strong hand. "B'sides, it's a bit of a long story. I don't want to keep ye awake with me." He kissed her forehead, though he could tell by his wife's bemused expression that she was unsatisfied. With a sigh, he added, "Look, it's nothin' that would interest you, darlin'."

"Ye're my husband," the queen reminded him loyally, "I'm interested in everything you have to say." she professed, though she wasn't in the spirits of hearing a tale similar to the one he'd regaled her with the night before.

The king groaned wearily. "...That Mary, somethin' about her rubs me the wrong way, Elinor," Fergus admitted at last, "but I just dunno what..."

"The Lady? Oh, Fergus..." scoffed Elinor, though she was secretly quite blissful that her husband saw nothing attractive in the stranger. She found her petty jealousy to be tiresome and childish, but she couldn't help but harbor these feelings – her passionate love for Fergus caused her to seethe with envy whenever her husband's captivating blue eyes locked with Mary's. Any unsuspecting woman who crossed the king's path had to pay mind to the wrath of the queen.

"But it's true, Eli. I feel as if... as if I know her from somewhere." he murmured, his eyes transforming into an empty gaze.

Then, it hit him. Like a tidal wave, it crashed down upon him – mercilessly, relentlessly. He faintly picked up his wife's voice from the outside world of his clouded thoughts, but he was rendered speechless.

"Darling," Elinor whispered, waving her hand before his face. His blue eyes widened as he began to inhale and exhale in rapid breaths, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. "Fergus, what's wrong?" pressed the queen, cupping his face in her hands.

"O-oh... n-n-no... c-can't be..." he whispered breathlessly. "..._Mollie?" _

Queen Elinor's amber eyes flared at her husband's words. She'd never had the great pleasure of hearing _this_ lass' name before.

"Fergus, _who _is this _Mollie?"_ she demanded in a growl, her past instincts rousing as she grew possessive over her king.

"Mary! Or _is _she?" he exclaimed wildly, quickly hushing his tone at his wife's displeased pair of eyes. He hastily engulfed her in his arms, squeezing his irreplaceable queen in a protective manner. "Oh, Elinor, I must be delusional..."

Despite being puzzled at her husband's outburst, Elinor's lips curved upward into a reassured smile as she was once more put at ease – calmed by her consort's embrace. She sighed softly and wrapped her arms around her husband's neck, gently rubbing the back of his head and smoothing his unkempt curls with her palm. Again and again, she lovingly kissed his cheek.

"Elinor!" the king whined pleadingly as he fidgeted in her embrace, in no way affected by his queen's tender actions. He incessantly muttered beneath his breath, suddenly entirely jittery and nervous.

"What is it, sweetheart?" she questioned softly, touching her cheek to his. Elinor saw no reason to be alarmed. Fergus was entirely faithful to her, they were in the arms of one another, and the king was entirely human, at least for the time being. His condition appeared to be stable for the moment. In addition, their children were safely tucked away in their beds. What else was there to fret over?

"Sh-she! That lass! It can't be!" he breathed, feeling his heart begin to pump with erratic beats, boiling blood coursing through his veins. That awful hag had tried to seduce him into a disgusting situation that sent a chill up his spine. He began to shudder, and the queen's previously dreamy gaze instantly morphed into one of concern.

"Fergus, Fergus, what is it?" she said gently, furrowing her brow.

"Don't ye see, lass?!" he exclaimed anxiously. "Mary! Mollie! The bear!"

"Fergus, shh," Elinor whispered sharply, firmly placing a hand over his mouth and gazing austerely into his eyes. "You have to calm down, dear. Goodness, do ye want to awaken the wee ones?"

"Mrrf, mmph..." grunted Fergus, immediately being interrupted by his queen.

"Please, love," she said in a hushed tone, slowly retracting her delicate hand. To her relief, the king remained silent, though he heaved with panicked breaths. "There, now," she said gently. "That's a good lad."

"E-Elinor..." he breathed with a gulp, placing his hands firmly upon her shoulders, "...I have to tell you... er-erm..."

"Yes, dear. What is it?"

Her trusting, amber eyes gazed into his, and he hastily pressed his lips to hers with no forethought. No, he couldn't worry her. She had already assumed he had had a mistress – he couldn't cause his queen any more pain than she had already endured, no matter how far from the truth a notion such as that was. Her wounds were still fresh and healing. He had to calm himself, for his Elinor's sake and for his own sanity. At last, the king pulled back, relieved at his wife's adoring gaze.

"Oh, w-well then," she giggled effeminately, instilling her husband with delight at her giddiness. She daintily cleared her throat, wishing to maintain her queenly composure. "Is that all, my dear? You could have simply asked for a kiss if you were in need of one." She kissed his forehead with loving expertise.

He exhaled, "I just... thought..." Elinor locked her eyes firmly yet cordially with his, and he finished with a sigh, "Never ye mind, love. Just yer king bein' himself. You know."

He shrugged, mirroring her now relieved smile, and they once again shared a loving, passionate kiss.


	12. Chapter 12: Sneaking About

Chapter Twelve

* * *

Merida feared that the pesky growling of her own stomach would wake the entirety of the castle. The princess skittered down the flight of steps leading to the kitchen, groaning as her hunger made its presence known.

"Och, quiet down, you!" she muttered beneath her breath, frisking the nooks and crannies of the kitchen in search of something to silence her stomach. In hindsight, perhaps it wasn't too wise to skip dinner for the most part. But she simply couldn't stomach being around that Lady, despite the fact that she would be incredibly grateful to stomach a hot meal.

Her blue eyes came aglow as they settled upon a small loaf of bread, and she laughed victoriously. The famished princess quickly seized her makeshift meal, savoring the crackling sound that graced her ears as she came to the realization that it was still entirely fresh. Merida began nibbling on the bread, steadily expanding her bites until she finished the morsel.

An ominous creaking sound suddenly echoed throughout the halls, and the princess quirked a brow. Someone was afoot – but, who?

Merida's heart leaped into her throat as she began to nervously make her way toward the door to the great hall. As she stepped through the doorway, she darted her eyes about for any sign of her father. Now that she had the time to ponder it, her father hadn't gone through a transformation recently; there was a strong possibility that the king was wandering about in the castle right at that moment.

"D-Dad?" Merida squeaked, swallowing her emotion.

She took a step forward, galloping up the staircase that led to her parents' room. With a trembling hand, she slowly turned the doorknob, fearful of awakening the sleeping monarchs she hoped slumbered inside their dwelling. Instantly, the sound of her father's steady breathing and occasional snore assuaged her fears, and she donned a toothy grin upon her freckled face.

Carefully, she shut the door once more, leaning against the doorjamb and breathing a sigh of relief. The persistent sound of footsteps caused the princess to jump, and she snapped her head toward the sound, her chest heaving with anxious, gasping breaths.

The mysterious creaking repeated itself, and Merida was all the more curious. She reached back her hand and lightly touched the doorknob. Should she alert her mother? No, she could handle this. She just had to be... _brave_.

Her eyebrows knit together, she approached the noise, quickening her pace as the sound began to crescendo. The flickering of candlelight shone in the distance, and the princess chewed her lower lip. She certainly didn't want to face any trouble – although, she was quite inquisitive. Who, in their right state of mind, would be wandering about the castle DunBroch in the middle of the night?

Merida's curiosity prevailed; she continued to venture towards the light, balling her fists and swinging her arms at her sides. If her wee triplet brothers were up to something, she would surely apprehend their mischief – or, encourage it, if the situation called for it. She _could _be quite cheeky herself.

The light made a swift, sharp turn to the left, and Merida hastened her pace. As she at last arrived at her destination, she creaked the door open silently, warily peeking through the crack. The flickering of the candlelight shone upon tendrils of fair, golden hair, and the now enraged princess shoved the door open. She cleared her throat accusingly, and the perpetrator swiveled around, the burning flame glimmering in her fierce, green eyes.

"Hello, dear," Mary greeted, simpering sweetly. Merida's stomach momentarily lurched. "Ye surprised me. I wasn't expectin' anyone to be-"

"What are ye doin'?" interrogated the princess. The woman before her donned a frown, her eyebrows knit close together.

"My, my, rather presumptuous, aren't we?" observed Mary. "I should ask _you_ the same."

"Pardon me," muttered Merida, bowing her head, "but, I don't think my mother would approve of yer sneakin' about in the middle of the-"

"Oh, I'm just rather restless, is all." interrupted the Lady in a sigh, striding across the room. "I'm quite unaccustomed to spendin' the night in a strange castle."

Merida studied the woman as she glided over to a nearby portrait of the king and queen, and as she raised the candle to shine upon the painting, the princess stepped over the threshold.

"As ye should be," Merida muttered under her breath.

"What was that, m'dear?"

"Nothin', nothin'," replied Merida hastily, clearing her throat. "Eh... what are ye lookin' for, exactly?" questioned the lass, placing her hands upon her hips.

"Ah, is this king?" marveled Mary, seemingly disregarding the princess' inquiry.

"Aye, and the queen..." confirmed Merida, stepping closer to the Lady. The fact that this stranger had purposefully left her mother out of the equation irked the princess. Although, perhaps she was reading too much into this.

They both gazed upon the portrait of the monarchs. The royal couple had been considerably younger, though they appeared to be as infatuated with each other as they were to this day.

King Fergus was quite the robust specimen, though whenever he was around his family, he was as gentle as a lamb, regarding them with fond affections and instantly responding to their every whim with fierce loyalty. Although Merida did happen to sense her stomach lurch whenever she caught a glimpse of her father wooing her mother, however brief, she was perpetually delighted to see them get along so well. She could easily see the love shared between them whenever she witnessed their affections for herself.

"Yer brood is so charmin', Princess," the Lady said, breaking the silence as she turned to face the red-haired lass at her side. "Ye're quite lucky to have been born royalty. Few people can say that, dear. It's certainly somethin' I always longed to be."

Mary paused as the princess allowed that statement to sink in. Of course, there had been many times when she'd resented her royal blood. Instead of being able to venture outside, she often had to be cooped up inside the castle, participating in lessons for a good fraction of even the most gorgeous of days, reading various texts and verses and reciting whatever her mother happened to fancy upon that particular day. Merida often would have given anything to be a simple, common girl – to spend her days as she wished. However, ever since the bond had been mended between her and her mother, she couldn't imagine being anyone else.

"Oh, Merida, I know I'm carryin' on, but I do have a small request of you," Mary mentioned, snaking an arm around the princess' shoulder.

An involuntary shudder wracked Merida's body. "And what's that, m'lady?" she inquired hesitantly, knowing that her parents, namely the queen, were usually the ones to carry out the decision-making process for the clan.

"I'm sure my dear brother would be thrilled to become acquainted with the king and queen," continued the woman, giving the princess a gentle push in the direction of the door.

Merida sensed her feet begin to involuntary shuffle across the stone floor. "O-oh?" she murmured, furrowing her brow.

"Perhaps we can find a way for my clan to become... _better acquainted _with yers. After all, yer mother is the diplomat, isn't she? She must be a natural at these sorts of things."

"W-well, I s'pose I could speak to her-" stammered the princess, immediately being interrupted by a rather excitable Mary.

"Grand!" she squealed, giggling effeminately as Merida narrowed her eyes. "Oh, Alistair will be overjoyed."

"Yer brother?" inquired Merida suspiciously, catching a glimpse of her brothers peeking through the crack of their bedroom door from across the hallway. She swiftly gestured for them to disappear, and they drew short gasps, retracting their faces and slamming their door shut.

"Aye, my darling brother. He's the leader of our clan, ye see. He'd appreciate meetin' the family that so kindly offered shelter to his beloved sister."

Merida remained speechless, pondering exactly what she had gotten herself into within a matter of moments.

Mary rambled, "Say, my Alistair is quite the bachelor, as well. I've just been _dyin' _to find him a lady. Have ye got any ideas, m'dear? Oh! Perhaps that lovely Maudie!"

Merida instantly fell completely and utterly silent. What _had _she done? Was this not the very woman she loathed? The very woman who, from the moment she entered the castle, had been striving to worm her way into the royal family's affairs? She was in no place to make decisions such as these; they were entirely her mother's cup of tea. Not even her father delved into planning events involving a meeting of the clans...

"Oh, I didn't happen to awaken you, dear, did I?" asked Mary guiltily, her lips protruding ever so slightly in a pout.

"No, no," Merida assured her, avoiding Mary's eyes. The woman nodded, offering the princess a smile that sent a sinking feeling to her core.

"Oh, this will be so very excitin'!" Mary squeaked.

Merida faked a smile, nodding enthusiastically. She only hoped the rest of her family would feel the same way, even if _she _did _not. _


	13. Chapter 13: Disaster in the Hall

Chapter Thirteen

* * *

_A/N: I guess you could refer to this as 'the unlucky number thirteen'. I apologize for the length of this chapter, but I felt it would be best if all the content stayed together. I also apologize for the long wait, I've been _insanely _busy! Anywayys, enjoy!_

* * *

Elinor gazed upon her beautiful daughter, who gave her mother a twirl, her skirts flowing freely.

"Ye're simply _gorgeous," _breathed the queen, approaching her daughter and enveloping the princess in a warm embrace.

"Thanks, Mum," Merida said modestly, letting loose a giggle. "Ye don't look so bad yerself."

Elinor glanced down, her lips curving upwards in a smile at her daughter's impeccable attention to detail.

"Oh?" chuckled the monarch, smoothing her dress with her palm. "Why, thank ye, dear."

The plum-colored fabric shimmered in the evening sunlight, and at the sound of her daughter's smooth brogue, Queen Elinor averted her eyes back upward, locking gazes with her beautiful child.

"Is it new, Mum?" inquired Merida of her mother, who nodded enthusiastically.

"Aye, it is – arrived today, in fact." she replied, turning her head and taking a glance at the door. "I hope yer father appreciates it as much as you do. Speakin' of which, I should go and check up on him." She turned back to her daughter with a fond smile. "His mind does tend to wander."

Her eyes suddenly became distracted, and she glided over to the standing mirror in the corner of the room, studying her figure in the mirror.

"Mum, ye look fine!" Merida chimed with a hearty laugh, rushing over to her mother and taking her place by her side and placing a hand upon her shoulder. "Dad doesn't care what ye wear. He... he loves ye no matter what."

Despite how uncomfortable the princess became whenever her parents displayed any amount of affection for one another, she herself witnessed how distressed her mother had been lately. The queen attempted to keep her inner feelings behind closed doors, but her daughter knew better. And therefore, Merida strove to take any chance she could when it came to reassuring her mother of her father's faithfulness, even if it caused the princess to come down with a slight case of nausea.

"No, it's not that, dear..." Elinor responded, sighing. She brought a hand longingly up to her neck, appearing to reach for something invisible. Her soft, subtle gaze quickly turned wistful. "I don't suppose ye've seen that pendant recently, Merida..."

"Pendant?" Merida questioned in puzzlement. "What do you – oh, that."

The heirloom her mother had allowed her to wear on the day of the contest – what had she done with it? She remembered it being in her possession as she galloped away on that ominous evening on her ride to the witch's cottage, but what had become of it afterward? Then, it suddenly dawned on her.

"Yes, darling, _that." _Elinor said, swiveling around and furrowing her brow. "Merida, have ye happened to come across it since the day of the games? I have no idea where it could've gotten to."

Merida turned on her heels, increasing the distance between herself and her mother. If she did happen to confess, she had no desire to be within the queen's reach.

"U-um... n-no! No, h-haven't seen it as of late." she lied, squeezing her eyes shut when she had her back to the monarch. She momentarily glanced back, catching a glimpse of her mother's puzzled expression. "Sorry, Mum."

Her mother sighed woefully, causing a massive guilt to crash down upon the princess' shoulders like a chilling avalanche.

"Well, that's quite alright, love. I'm sure it'll turn up eventually." Elinor said gently, managing to utter her response as cheerfully as possible. At her core, however, her heart was slowly breaking in two. She straightened her posture in an effort to lighten the somber mood that had befallen the room. She approached her daughter from behind and laid a hand upon her shoulder. "Well, then. Shall we?"

"Aye," the princess replied absentmindedly, drifting from the room in an evidently distant state of mind. Elinor glided out of the room after her, though she made a sharp turn to the left down the dimly lit hallway. As she arrived at the door to the royal bedchamber, she gave it a slight rapping with her knuckles.

"Fergus, may I come in, dear?" she asked cordially, assuring that her king was decent. His voice arose from the room, inviting her in. She turned the doorknob and made her entrance, catching a glimpse of her husband gazing out the large paned window. He turned and offered her a slight smile.

"Evenin', Eli," he greeted, his normally gravelly tone of voice sounding rather fatigued and weak. Elinor paid no mind, as she was busily attending to the task of adding finishing touches to her appearance.

"Hello, darling," she responded gleefully, retreating to her dresser and bringing her hairbrush up to her lengthy locks with a delicate hand. "Are ye nearly ready, my dear?"

"Aye," he murmured, stroking his mustache with a large hand.

"How do I look, hm?" inquired the queen in an effort to be flirtatious, setting her brush upon her dresser and offering him a coy smile.

"Eh? Oh, hm. Aye."

As her attempts to capture his eye proved to be futile, Elinor's amber eyes filled with instinctive worry, and she approached her husband, gazing into his blue eyes as she stepped in front of him whilst placing herself between him and the view of the mountains in the distance.

"What, Fergus? Ye don't like my new gown?" she inquired as she managed a chuckle, lifting up a hand to caress his chiseled facial features. He raised his own massive hand and grasped her wrist with the utmost care, mindlessly placing a light kiss upon her palm. The queen reiterated, "Fergus?"

"Hm?" he grunted, gazing into her eyes. "Eh... what didja say, dear?"

"Sweetheart, what's the matter?" the concerned queen asked, her eyebrows knit together in her trademark worry. "Are ye not feelin' well?" He looked down at her and shrugged, glassy-eyed. At this, the queen became slightly alarmed, growing anxious at her king's unusual behavior. Elinor placed her delicate hands on either side of her husband's beefy neck, feeling for any swelling as she tenderly massaged his flesh. "Do you have a sore throat? A headache?" Her heart fell with anxiety; she had previously thought her husband had fully recovered from his brief illness. He appeared to be perfectly hearty and well in all other aspects, with the exception of a slight limp due to the injury he sustained from the beast that he battled (on her behalf, she reminded herself).

"Elinor, Elinor, darlin'," her husband murmured, caressing her cheek, "don't worry. I-I'm alright."

"No, Fergus, if you feel ill, the last thing I want ye to do is overexert yerself." she stated in a queenly manner, shaking her head and walking towards the door. "I'm goin' to call this entire thing off."

"N-no, Eli," mumbled the king, pursuing her and catching her by the hand. "I'll manage."

"So ye _are _feelin' under the weather," she observed as she faced him once more, her face etched with worry.

"Elinor, ye're the diplomat of the clan. Ye have to go through with this, dear. Pay no mind to me." he professed, retreating to their bed and sitting down atop the mattress.

"Fergus, get into bed," she ordered, standing before him and giving off a regal aura.

At this abrupt demand, Fergus gazed up at her, all at once stunned by her wholesome beauty. He suddenly saw her in a new light; how could he possibly have neglected to notice her this way just moments before? Her gown hugged her form in all of the right places; her hands were currently placed upon her hips, the jewels on her wedding ring glittering in the candlelight. At last his wandering eyes locked with her stern, amber orbs. She pursed her lips, gesturing towards their bed. He in turn raised a brow at her, folding his arms across his chest.

"No, Elinor, I'd better accompany ye down there... or else the lads won't be able to keep their eyes off of ye. Then, I'll be forced to gouge 'em out." He rose to his feet and grasped her waist with both of his hands.

Elinor released a brief giggle at his banter, and he grinned charmingly. The queen was slightly appeased at her love's sudden vigor, though she wasn't completely convinced. She was not one to be easily fooled.

"Fergus, as soon as ye start growin' weary, ye tell me." she said firmly. "_Immediately. _Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal, love," Fergus murmured, loyally kissing her cheek.

Elinor studied him intrusively, scanning him up and down with her amber eyes. She gingerly smoothed a deep crease in the fabric of his kilt before placing her hands upon his chest. She smiled knowingly as he subtly flexed his muscles, and with a roll of her eyes, she linked arms with him. The royal couple made their way to the door, smiling at one another.

As they exited the room, the immediate sound of rowdiness and cheerful drinking hit their ears, the clanging of glasses and hollers in abundance. The distant wailing of bagpipes filled the air, and the couple gazed ahead of them at their great hall, aglow with torch flames and buzzing with slurred chatter and singing.

Elinor turned to her husband, neatening his curls with a loving touch. "Remember, Fergus. Don't hesitate to tell me-"

"Aye, aye, I know," he said hastily, grabbing her hand in the midst of its motion and kissing it devotedly. He ran his own hand gently through her tresses of glossy hair, captivated by her delighted outlook on this night. Normally, his wife wasn't so delighted when it came to loud, rambunctious gatherings, but she appeared to be in the most joyful of moods on this particular night.

All at once, their triplet sons shot by, scampering along on three sets of stubby legs. They leaped up on the railing of the staircase and slid down the bannister, erupting in shrieks and giggles as they were greeted by Seamus and Donnan at the foot of the stairs. The king roared with laughter; he cowered, however, when his eyes met his wife's amber glare.

"Boys, settle down now!" Elinor called, smiling appreciatively as her husband piped up.

"Do as yer mother says, lads! Or I'm in for a world 'o trouble, eh!" he added with a laugh, cupping a hand around his mouth to project his voice. The queen laid a hand lovingly upon his shoulder.

"Thank you, dear." she said graciously, immediately stretching out her opposite arm as her daughter made an attempt to sail past her parents. The princess halted in her tracks, her curls bouncing as her momentum kept going.

"Oh, M-Mother," she stammered, preparing to give a reason as to why she was skittering so quickly after her brothers. "I was just-"

"Now, Merida, love. Don't fret. Just go and try to have a wee bit of fun, hm?" Elinor said warmly, fondling her daughter's red curls with a loving, maternal touch. She suffused with delight as the princess offered her a toothy smile, her blue eyes regarding her fondly.

"'Course, Mum. I'll try and not let the boys cause too much trouble..."

"How noble of you, Merida." Elinor mentioned with a smirk, gesturing towards the party with her eyes. "Now, go on. Yer father and I will join ye presently."

Her daughter smiled a final time before scampering in the direction in which her brothers had taken off. The queen watched the lass as she immersed herself in all of the festivities, taking her eyes off of her daughter and glancing at her husband only after he touched her shoulder. No words needed to be uttered, as both the king and queen could tell exactly what was on the mind of the opposite monarch.

As the royal couple continued their journey to where they were needed, Elinor felt her husband suddenly become tense, though she couldn't distinguish if his abrupt excitement was caused by anticipation or anxiety. She lightly tightened her grip of his hand, shortening the distance between them as she gave his gigantic paw a loving squeeze.

King Fergus and Queen Elinor arrived at the foot of the stairs, and their subjects greeted them by bowing respectfully. The queen momentarily stepped forward, clearing her throat in order to maintain the silence.

"The king and I are pleased to welcome all of ye into our home this evenin'." she chimed cordially, clapping her hands together as she scanned the crowd. "I invite ye all to indulge in the king's private reserves. Heaven knows he has no need for it."

Chuckles arose from the crowd as the king became noticeably distressed, appearing to become slightly appeased as his queen turned to comfort him.

"Dear, would ye like to add a few words?" she murmured, taking her place by his side and linking arms with him once more. He gazed at her in puzzlement for a moment, furrowing his brow. Mere seconds later, his eyes lit up with a revelation.

"Oh, aye, 'course, love." he replied quietly, guiding his queen along as he took his turn in stepping forward. "Er, hello! Everyone! Um... erm, I s'pose my wife has all but summed it up. So, yes! Enjoy yerselves! Eat, drink, be merry, and the sort!"

His voice echoed throughout the room, and a beat of silence passed before the congregation erupted in cheers. Fergus grinned as Elinor subtly rested her head against his shoulder. The king was overjoyed that he had done his queen proud.

"Remember to use the tiny glasses!" he interjected, pinching his fingers together to emphasize his point.

"Oh, Fergus, let them be," chuckled Elinor, patting his hand. She instantly donned a tender smile, resting her hands in his. "Now, perhaps you and I could dance a wee bit?" she asked hopefully, gazing into his pure, azure eyes. A moment just between the two of them during a gathering such as this was just what she had been looking forward to. Her heart sank as he scoffed.

"Maybe later on, eh?" he replied with a shrug, rolling his eyes at her crestfallen frown. "Oh, c'mon, dear, ye know I don't go for all that!" he boomed, dismissing her request with a lighthearted chuckle of amusement. He instantly wandered off at the sight of one of the other lords, addressing them with childish eagerness.

Elinor sighed gloomily, left abandoned by her consort. With a slight huff, she made her way through the crowd, which immediately parted in her wake. She retreated to her throne, slowly sinking down and folding her hands upon her lap, observing the merry group.

Faintly, she picked up her husband's voice emanating from the crowd, and she grew slightly irritated. Truthfully, the queen was quite offended that her husband would brush her off in such a manner as he did, and that he would evidently much rather spend time with the other lords than with his own wife.

Wallowing in her loneliness, the queen let loose another sigh, only glancing up as an unfamiliar voice addressed her.

"Yer Majesty?" the voice said incredulously. Elinor's amber eyes locked with the pair of hazel in front of her.

"Yes?" she responded, observing the man before her. He was thin but well-built, his head topped with a crest of wavy, dark-brown hair. Though his locks were peppered with flecks of gray here and there, he was quite easy on the eyes – to any other eligible woman besides the happily married queen, of course.

"Excuse me for pryin', m'lady, but I have to ask," he uttered, offering her a grin, "What's a lovely lass such as yerself doin' all alone? You _are _the queen, aren't ye?"

"Well, yes, I am. I was just awaitin' my husband-"

"A fool, 'e is, allowin' his lovely lady to feel neglected!" the man scoffed. He straightened his posture, reaching out a hand and offering it to the queen. "Well, no more. May I?"

"Oh, ye're very charmin', but I'm afraid I can't accept yer offer. The king promised he'd meet me later on..."

Her statement hadn't been exactly truthful, but she was determined and willing to await her husband's arrival if it meant an opportunity to share a dance with him.

The stranger's proud smile instantly morphed into a frown. "I see."

"I'm terribly sorry," apologized the queen. Her eyes wandered to the group of men gathered in the center of the room, which, to her dismay, included her husband, who was engaging in plentiful toasts with his companions. A sting of betrayal slowly began puncture her otherwise high spirits.

"No, no, I understand completely, Yer Highness." the man replied uninterestedly, following her gaze and allowing his hazel eyes to settle upon the king. He furrowed his brow with disapproval. "That's our noble king, eh?" he asked, nodding towards Fergus.

"Aye," sighed Elinor, her expression turning rather glum.

"Hm. Well, if ye happen to find the need for company, I'll be minglin'." the dapper man said, turning back to the queen. Though her eyes were golden-brown, they appeared to be blue in her gloomy state of mind.

"Thank you," Elinor said quietly, her lips curving into a smile. The charming lad raised his brows and smiled, turning on his heels and beginning to walk away. Although the monarch didn't happen to catch her new acquaintance's name, Elinor figured he would surely make his return. Not that it mattered if he did – her Fergus would most certainly uphold his agreement with her. At least, she was hopeful.

After some time had passed, the queen was quite fed up with waiting. Daintily, she rose to her feet, gazing wistfully at her subjects. No longer would she simply watch the evening's festivities fade away – she would find a way to enjoy herself, whether it included Fergus or not.

"Finally decided to take up my offer, eh?" a voice inquired from beside her. With a slight gasp, the queen glanced over in the direction of the voice. The man she had become acquainted with earlier had appeared inconspicuously at her side, and Elinor offered him a cordial smile.

"Oh, well, seein' as my husband seems to have forgotten me–"

"Grand! And as well ye should," replied her new companion. Gently, he took her hand and led her over to the congregation gathered at the center of the great hall.

"Aye," she chuckled, positioning herself in a standard dance pose. "Oh, I didn't happen to catch yer name..."

"Alistair," her partner replied, beginning to lead her as the male dancer. "Ye've met my sister, I've heard. In fact, she's told me quite a lot about yer family. How nice of ye, invitin' ye into yer home and such..." The duo glided around the floor in near perfect unison, much to the queen's surprise. Alistair continued, "I presume ye're Queen Elinor, the fair and the virtuous."

The queen had no control over the growing heat of her face at this compliment. "Oh, I wouldn't say that..." she responded, allowing a slight laugh to escape from her lips.

"Now, don't be modest, m'lady." Alistair insisted, grinning at the sight of her blush. "Say, ye're quite light on yer feet, aren't ye?" He began to quicken his pace, and Elinor followed his lead flawlessly.

"I've been dancin' since I was just a wee lass," the queen explained, laughing joyously as Alistair dipped her.

"Oh, so ye've recently taken up lessons?" he asked with his usual charm. The monarch in his grasp could only respond to his query with another chuckle.

"Goodness, no!" she chimed, smiling as her amber eyes twinkled.

Unbeknownst to the queen, her daughter spied her warily from afar, her triplet sons at their sister's side. The princess narrowed her eyes and turned up her nose at the sight before her, glancing down as one of her brothers tugged at her dress.

"Oh, he's a crafty one, so he is. No doubt about that," she muttered, placing her hands upon her hips. "He's got Mum in the palm of his hand. But we'll show 'im, won't we boys?" She darted her eyes downward once more, noticing that the three wee princes were absent. "Hamish? Hubert? _Harris?" _

Merida snapped her head up at the sound of her brothers skittering across the floor, maneuvering around plentiful pairs of feet stomping about. The princess released a cry of distress as Hamish was nearly stepped on, and seconds later she was in hot pursuit. She soon lost sight of them, and her heart instantly made a giant leap into her throat.

She then proceeded to frantically scamper about in a tizzy, occasionally addressing the various guests she happened to recognize and giving hasty apologies for bumping into them during her search. Much to her relief, she picked up the sound of her father's laughter, and she immediately sought his attention.

"Dad!" she exclaimed, catching her breath. The king turned to face her, greeting her warmly and capturing her in a hug.

"Merida, darlin'! What brings ye over here?" he inquired curiously, placing a hand upon the princess' shoulder.

"H-have ye seen the boys?" she asked quickly, wishing to get to the point as quickly as possible. "I can't f-find–"

"Woah, there! Slow down, m'dear!" Fergus chuckled, grinning from ear to ear. "Calm yerself, Merida. I'm sure they're around here somewhere..." He donned an inquisitive expression, his curious eyes darting about. Thoughtfully, he brought up a hand to stroke his mustache, muttering under his breath. Suddenly, his gaze turned sour, and he furrowed his brow disdainfully. _"Elinor?"_

At the sound of the king's flustered voice, the queen swiveled around, wriggling out of Alistair's arms.

"Fergus!" she exclaimed with a gasp, her amber eyes widening like saucers.

As the king approached his wife and the man he viewed as a threat, rage boiled at his core. Threateningly, he clenched his fists and locked eyes with the intruder that had been encroaching on his boundaries. The owner of the pair of arms in which his Elinor had just moments before been held in seemed unfazed by his intimidation, a fact that caused the king to seethe even more so.

Alistair momentarily cried out in pain, lifting up his foot and clutching it with both hands. Merida instantly rushed over, pulling the princes aside and into her arms. Hubert held a hammer in his tiny fists, and the three boys writhed in their sister's grasp, their faces twisted up in defiant glares, their clear, blue eyes flaring with anger.

"Those... devils!" Alistair shouted, swearing some choice, colorful phrases in Gaelic.

"I'm _terribly _sorry, Alistair!" lamented Elinor, kneeling ever so slightly to study his injury. "I can't fathom why they'd possibly..." Her voice drifted off as her gaze averted to her sons, narrowing her amber eyes in sheer disapproval. "Shame on you, lads!" She took a slight satisfaction at the apologetic glances her sons offered her.

"Oh, dear Elinor, don't be too hard on them." Alistair said gently, eying the king with detest. "I see they clearly take after their _father."_

"What's that s'posed to mean?" growled the king, approaching his enemy further. "And don't ye _dare _refer to my wife as anythin' but 'Yer Highness'." he snapped, grabbing Alistair's kilt in his fists. He lifted him off the ground with ease, gritting his teeth as he suppressed the urge to toss this man carelessly across the room.

"Fergus of DunBroch, ye let him go this _instant!" _shrieked Elinor, clenching her own fists. She was well aware that her husband could be as gentle as a lamb, and she expected no less of his behavior at this moment in time, even when he allowed his jealousy to get the best of him.

"Listen to yer lovely lass, _my liege," _Alistair cooed mockingly, landing on the floor with a grunt as the king shoved him forcefully away.

By this time, nearly the entire congregation in the great hall had ceased their activities and indulgences and were gathered around the epicenter where the action was occurring. Alistair rose to his feet, dusting himself off nonchalantly.

Fergus glared stonily at his victim, pure hatred burning in his eyes. He took a step forward, and his wife placed herself between the two brawling men.

"Fergus, may I have a word with you?" she uttered, her tone of voice void of any emotion whatsoever. With another growl, the king turned his back to her without another word, disappearing into the crowd. The queen sighed, slowly turning around herself. "Alistair, I do apologize. There is no excuse for my husband's conduct."

"Think nothin' of it, m'lady," Alistair replied, repositioning his kilt as he continued, "it's no fault of yer own."

Elinor still sported a guilty expression, though her face twisted up in a frown as she faced her children.

"Boys, go to yer room at once. Merida, you and I will discuss this later," she said firmly, turning on her heels and walking in the direction of the stairs, "after I talk some sense into that man."

* * *

"Fergus, you and I are discussin' this right now." Elinor stated authoritatively, glaring tritely at her husband.

He turned to face her, his eyes reflecting absolutely no regret. She was entirely disapproving of his unruly behavior. She had taken up the duty of assuring this evening would play out without any problems, but she had never taken into consideration how envious and jealous the king could become when it came to another man giving her any attention.

"There's nothin' to discuss," he retorted stubbornly, folding his arms across his chest.

"Oh, yes, there is." Elinor snapped, advancing on to the king. "What on earth got into you down there?"

"That man had his arms around ye!" the king shouted, his voice suddenly retracting as a growl emanated from deep within his throat.

"We were dancin'!" the queen exclaimed, throwing up her hands at his foolish immaturity.

"Elinor, that family is nothin' but trouble." Fergus growled, clenching his fists.

Elinor showed no reaction to his attempt at intimidating her, as she remained stoic and frozen in her stance.

"_Ye're _nothin' but trouble." the female monarch retorted, folding her arms.

"Oh, am I?" he scoffed mockingly. "How do ye explain that Mary, then? She doesn't bother you?"

Elinor was taken aback at his remark. Of course, she felt a twinge of jealousy whenever the Lady was near the king. Naturally, she would. But she would never do anything so rash towards the woman as the king had done toward her defenseless brother. It was simply unthinkable.

"I should say not!" she snapped.

"Not one bit, eh?" challenged Fergus, furrowing his brow in defiance.

"Fergus, I'm not playin' this game with you."

"Why not, Elinor? I enjoy playin' games!"

"That's just it!" exclaimed the queen, raising her voice. "Ye're nothin' but fun and games! Do ye ever happen to think seriously about anythin'? About the consequences ye could've stirred up by doin' what ye just did?"

Fergus opened his mouth to shoot out his comeback, but, much to the queen's horror, he staggered backward, a rumbling growl emanating from deep within him. His wife drew in a sharp breath as the king fell to his knees, panting heavily.

"E-Elinor," he choked out, his entire form rumbling with a lamenting, beastly growl, "I-I'm... sorry."

"_Fergus?" _Elinor murmured incredulously, the beginnings of tears welling in her eyes. "No, stay with me – promise me ye'll _try_!" pleaded the queen desperately. She knelt down beside him, placing a hand upon his heaving back. His form wracked with a shudder, and her heart unpleasantly skipped a beat.

"I... can't." he whispered hoarsely, tensing up as his transformation grew imminent.

"_Yes, _you _can!" _his wife cried desperately. "You _must!"_

"Hey, now," he crooned, lifting his head to gaze into her eyes, grinning slightly, "everythin' is goin' to be okay. Ye'll see." Lightly, he grasped her hand in his, just as it began to morph into a massive paw.

A blinding light suffused in the room, and the queen tore her hand away from the king's grip as she shielded her eyes. After a beat of silence, she retracted her hands and clung to the bear before her, stumbling backward not a moment later as her husband released a beastly growl. He locked his vengeful glare with her tearful, amber eyes – a chill was sent up the queen's spine at the sight of his monstrous, untamed, lifeless stare. Her king growled threateningly, his nostrils flaring with angry breaths.

"No, Fergus! Not now!" she shrieked, holding back her fears as she approached him. With both of her hands, she held either side of his head, locking her eyes with his. "Fergus, l-listen to me... I know ye couldn't ever cause me harm, dear... now, I need ye to–"

The beast before her let loose a menacing roar, and the queen acted in the only way she could; she screamed. Her husband, who at one point was her most faithful confidant, began lumbering toward her, tossing his head back and forth in his uncontrollable state.

As if the occurrences proceeding were happening in slow motion, the bear lunged at his mate, pinning her against the wall with his massive form. He placed his mighty pair of paws on either side of her, pressing his face close to hers with a menacing growl. Her heart beating out of her chest, the queen squeezed her eyes shut, preparing for the inevitable as her husband licked his chops.

"_Please, Fergus! Ye have to snap out of this!" _she pleaded, succumbing to tears as the king's breaths hit her face. As her husband pushed into her even more so, she released yet another chilling shriek.

His wife's agonizing cries hitting his ears, Fergus experienced the revelation of his life, and his pupils dilated, focusing upon his queen, whom he had viciously trapped in his clutches.

"_Elinor?!" _he yelped, staggering back on all fours. He watched in terror as his wife slid downwards, landing upon the floor as she covered her face with her hands. Her lithe form trembled, her body shuddering with heaving sobs. The king approached his queen, and to his horror, she flinched and turned away from him, avoiding his eyes. Fergus was persistent, and he slowly approached her once more, whimpering ashamedly as he nuzzled her form. "Love?" he grunted, swallowing a lump in his throat. "Are you... I-I didn't hurt ye, did I?"

Elinor turned her head to face her king as he pressed his snout to her face, licking the tears from her cheeks.

Caressing his muzzle in her hands, she exhaled anxiously, "F-Fergus. Are ye... are ye goin' to be alright now?"

"E-Eli, I–"

In an instant, the door flung open, having been shoved by a frenzied Alistair. Both the king and queen gasped.

"M'lady queen, I heard yer cries! What has–" His hazel eyes widened as he echoed the monarchs' interjections, and the king instinctively roared at the intruder, the hair on his back bristling in his agitation.

"Alistair..." the queen murmured with a sniff, wiping her tears away and quickly rising to her feet.

Elinor made a motion to retreat to Alistair's side, much to her husband's dismay. Hastily, Fergus clutched his wife's sleeve with his teeth, attempting to keep her away from this intrusive, lowly stranger.

Alistair's eyes filled with rage, shoving in between the king and queen before snatching Fergus' sword from where his kilt rested on the floor, having been tucked securely away in his sheath. He aimed the sharpened end of the weapon at the king's chest. Elinor cried out, placing herself in between the sword and her husband.

"Elinor, get outta the way before that beast rips ye to pieces!" screeched Alistair, shoving the queen out of the way with a swift push.

At this, her loyal husband's eyes flared with rage, and Fergus angrily snapped his jaws in his foe's face, causing the man to take a step back. Alistair gripped the sword until his knuckles turned white, pointing it once more at the king.

"Alistair, _please!" _pleaded the queen, attempting to pry the weapon from the determined man's hands.

"Are ye _mad, _woman?!" shouted Alistair, swiping the sword at Fergus as he momentarily lurched forward, preparing to attack. The king prevailed, leaping forward and pinning his foe upon the ground, releasing a deafening roar in the man's face.

Alistair bellowed in retaliation, slashing the sword across Fergus' throat. The blade grazed the bear king's thick fur, narrowly managing to place a scratch upon him. In a fit of hysterics, however, the queen faithfully retreated to her husband's side, moaning in distress as she examined the king thoroughly.

"Fergus, did he hurt you? Answer me!" she demanded, frenzied.

He gave her a slow but affirmative nod, baring his teeth in a makeshift smile. He nuzzled Elinor's face soothingly, assuaging her concerns.

"You beast!" Alistair hollered, making his advance and preparing for another battle.

"No, stop! Please!" cried Queen Elinor, stepping in between the two males. She turned her head and glanced at her husband's blue eyes. "Fergus, ye must control yerself." she murmured, darting her eyes back to the man before her.

"You call that monster yer husband? 'e isn't half as manky!" scoffed Alistair, withdrawing as Fergus roared angrily. At his wife's abrupt order for silence, the king snapped his jaws shut.

"A-Alistair, if ye'd simply listen," she said shakily, gesturing to the king. "H-he's completely tame... gentle as a lamb, even." Elinor added, turning to face her significant other. "I-isn't that right, dear?"

She reached out a hand, instantly pulling it away and taking a step back as Fergus swiped at her dress. Elinor cried out as the king's paw was directed her way once more, and this time he allowed his massive claws to slice through the fabric of her gown.

Fergus momentarily snapped out of his raving delirium, returning to reality. In an instant, a sword ripped across his flesh, and he howled at the pain shooting through his body. He hurriedly burst through the open door of the room, scrambling through the corridor and skittering across the floor.

Tripping over his feet, he tumbled down the stairs of the great hall, stumbling directly into the congregation, which was quite unaware of the happenings elsewhere in the castle. Several frantic gasps and screams erupted from the group of clans, and a single person rushed to the king's side as he weakly rose to his feet.

"Dad! Oh, Dad!" cried Merida, helping her father as his legs wobbled. He gave a sound of distress as the clans closed in, and the princess hastily pulled together an explanation, turning to face the fuming crowd. "E-everyone, don't be alarmed-"

"Princess, step away from that beast!" a voice snapped, and Merida turned to face the sound. Alistair galloped down the stairs, sword in hand and queen in wake. "Lads! Come with me!" he addressed his clan, which rowdily congregated around him, shutting out the remaining clans, which, for the most part, stood dumbfounded at the events happening before their eyes.

"I will do no such thing!" retorted Merida, clenching her fists as her mother joined her at her side. The triplets appeared from the crowd moments later, sheepishly seeking refuge behind their sister. "Stay back, boys," ordered Merida, selflessly defending her brothers. "You too, Dad. It's alright," she assured her father, who began to back into a wall as Alistair and his clan closed in. He cowered before innumerable vicious glares, and he could only await what was coming with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Alistair, what have ye done?" a voice cried, its owner emerging from the crowd. Mary joined her brother, gazing at him in concern.

A guttural sound was produced deep within the king's throat at the sight of the vile woman, and Alistair stepped forward, threateningly waving a torch in front of Fergus' nose. The king flattened his ears, baring his razor-sharp fangs in response to Alistair's hostility.

"Alistair, I beg of ye, don't do this!" cried the queen desperately, scrambling to apprehend the lord's advances.

"This is for yer own good!" growled Alistair, seizing the queen's arm as she brought it up to reach for the torch being waved in her husband's direction. The lord lifted up the sword he held in his opposite hand, pointing it directly at the monarch. Elinor drew a short gasp, taking a step back. "That's right, stay back, woman." uttered Alistair, his mouth curving upward in a snake-like grin.

Fergus roared in rage, lunging forward and slapping his wife's assailant's face with a massive paw. Alistair was sent flying, landing on the ground with an audible _thud. _The lord sat up, grasping his jaw with his hand. Blood dripped from the slashes on his face caused by the king's claws.  
Alistair bellowed, "Boys!" He gestured toward Fergus with his head, and his clan erupted in hollers, all scrambling towards the king.

In an instant, a rope was tossed around the king's neck, bringing him to a state of dizziness at his near suffocation. Another round of ropes ensnared him by the ankles, causing him to fall hard upon the ground. With a grunt, he groggily gazed up at Alistair, who raised a gleaming sword above the king's head. This seemed all to familiar to Fergus, causing painful memories to resurface.

Merida shrieked, springing forward and taking her turn in coming to her father's aid. Alistair reacted in an instant, quickly shoving the princess out of the way. The lass fell backwards, landing on the floor. Elinor hurriedly rushed to her daughter's side, embracing her maternally.

Meanwhile, Fergus seized the ropes in his jaws, snapping them with his teeth. He bared his fangs with a mighty roar of vengeance and lunged at Alistair once again, pinning him to the ground as he ripped at the lord's kilt, entirely prepared to tear him to pieces. Alistair pegged the king in the snout with his fist, and Fergus staggered back, snorting and swiping a massive paw at his nose. He shook his head back and forth before averting his eyes upward and locking his hysterical gaze with his foe's. With a rather agile bounce, he shoved his paws into Alistair's chest, bringing him down on the ground again. The two tumbled about for a moment before the king got the upper hand (or, paw) and snagged Alistair's kilt in his jaws, tossing the lord viciously about.

A pang of discomfort shot through the king's body, and he glanced back as the chilling screams of his wife and daughter echoed throughout the hall. An arrow protruded from his flesh, and though the wound wasn't very deep, the twinge of pain irritated Fergus.

Ropes were once again tossed over the king's body, but he managed to break free, making a daring escape out of the castle with the ropes still clinging to his form. Fergus sensed the arrow digging deeper into his wound, and he clenched his teeth in agony. The hooves of horses pounded after him, and he pumped his legs incredibly faster, breathing heavily as the night air pierced his lungs.

Somehow, he lost his balance, tumbling through the brush and landing in a massive heap. Pain shot through his body, and he came to the heart wrenching realization that he had landed directly upon the arrow that had punctured him. He groaned, barely noticing that his wooden leg rested beside him, yet another arrow lodged through it.

And then, everything suddenly faded to black.


	14. Chapter 14: Trapped

Chapter Fourteen

* * *

Elinor's hands trembled as one of her king's men stepped forward from the rest and placed the tattered wooden leg, once belonging to the man she loved, in her hands. The wood splintered and cracking, the artificial limb was bent profusely, having been nearly snapped by a piercing arrow. The weapon protruded from the wooden leg, into which it was wedged.

"I'm sorry, m'lady," one of the men solemnly murmured.

"Wh-where is he?" the queen choked out, beginning to shudder as she somberly locked eyes with the man. _"Where is my Fergus?"_

"I'm sorry, Queen Elinor. Th-this is the only trace of the king we could find..." He bowed his head, crestfallen.

A gasping squeak arose from the queen, and she quickly brought a hand to her mouth, squeezing her eyes shut as tears began to spill down her cheeks. She began to sob; any attempt at concealing her feelings would be futile.

Merida clung to her, burying her face in her mother's gown as she too produced agonizing cries.

"It c-can't be true... i-it _can't _be!" the princess wailed, her back heaving as her mother made a sorrowful attempt to comfort her.

The triplets gathered around their mother's skirts, weeping hopelessly at the loss of their beloved father.

The matriarch fell to her knees, her heartache getting the best of her, and her daughter soon followed suit. Although their family was now incomplete, the brood huddled together, comforting each other in the only way they could in this time of despair – by being a shoulder to cry on.

* * *

"There, now. Ye're goin' to be alright," a distant voice uttered.

The injured man's heavy lids slowly rose, and his weary, blue eyes darted about, assessing his surroundings. He rapidly tried to sit up, wincing in pain as he did so.

"King Fergus, please!" the voice pleaded, its owner obviously restraining the monarch as he sunk back down. "Ye _must _save yer strength. Ye were close to bein' killed."

Fergus' azure eyes locked with those of the woman before him, and he recognized them anywhere, despite the cloudy image he witnessed. In his exhaustion, he shut his eyes once more, allowing his head to fall back upon the pillow.

"Wh-where...? Elinor..." he groaned as he squirmed in the scratchy tunic he was clad in, unable to recollect any of the events that had occurred. Mary gently took his hand, and he quickly snatched it away, sliding it underneath the thick coverlets to assure its security.

"Y-you attacked her, m'lord." Mary admitted, shamefully bowing her head.

The king's snapped up in an instant, his eyes crazed with fear.

"Wh-wha? I-I... i-is she well? M-Merida! What of my princess? A-and my queen! Oh, my lovely Elinor..."

"Calm yerself, Fergus." Mary stated firmly, glaring at the king as he panted with anxious, heaving breaths. "Yer family is indeed alive and well." she replied calmly, rising to her feet. "Now, I think ye should have a wee bit of time to collect yer thoughts..." She turned to leave, and the king caught her by the wrist.

"N-no, lass. Please," he mumbled, "t-tell me more of my family. I have to know."

A coy smile spread across Mary's face, and she turned and daintily sat upon the chair at the king's bedside once more. She placed her hands upon her lap, folding them as she prepared to regale the attentive king with the previous night's events.

"Well, I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't been there myself, but ye viciously attacked yer wife. Oh, she wept over you, even as you raked yer claws across her body." she paused for dramatic effect as Fergus buried his whiskered face in his hands with a sound of despair. "Then, my dear brother came to her rescue, just in time I might add. Ye were quite ready to tear her to pieces. And then, ye turned on yer daughter–"

"Please, no more," Fergus murmured weakly, revealing his tear-stained eyes to the Lady. She raised her brows.

"As ye made yer escape, leavin' the injured queen in yer wake–"

_"Stop!"_ shouted the king, clenching his fists as a small tear glimmered at the corner of his eye. He swallowed a lump in his throat before muttering a hasty apology under his breath.

"As ye wish, m'lord," she sighed, standing. "You just get some rest now, I'll be by later to check up on ye and see if yer in the mood for somethin' to eat, perhaps." She turned on her heels and made her way toward the door, halting in her tracks as her patient's voice called out to her.

"M-Mary," the king whispered, "when... when can I see my family again?"

"My good king, I doubt they'd even wish to see ye after what pain ye've inflicted upon them all." she replied, placing her hand on the doorknob.

"I s-see," Fergus mumbled glumly, his voice drifting off as he released a heavy, distraught sigh. "I wish to be left alone, lass."

"Very well, then. Good day to ye, sire." Mary chimed cordially, taking her leave.

The king was left to quietly weep in his solitude.

* * *

Fergus drifted in and out of consciousness for hours, never fully submitting to sleep's clutches. His dreams were constantly preoccupied with visions of his lovely, brown-eyed lady, his severe guilt making it quite impossible to allow him to get any rest.

Could what that woman had said really be true? The circumstances seemed unfathomable. Even in his beastly state of mind, he could hardly imagine that he would cause any harm to his love, or his precious daughter, for that matter.

Ever since he had become acquainted with Mary, she'd done nothing but toy with his emotions and play games with him. In his honest opinion, she couldn't be trusted. Neither could her brother, for that matter.

Alistair – that slimy, serpentine man. There was no feasible way for that creature to be the hero in this situation. But, he couldn't be certain. After all, he hadn't been in his right state of mind. If he truly had acted like an untamed beast toward his wife, daughter, sons, and his clan, he surely didn't deserve to be around them. He was the leader on which they counted, but there was no doubt in his mind that his queen would be able to handle things solo from that point onward.

Fergus jolted at the swift creaking of the door, and it swung open. A shadowy figure stood in the doorway, and he stepped over the threshold, twirling his sword in his grasp.

"I see ye're awake," he observed vaguely, stating the obvious.

"Aye," grumbled the king, wary of the man.

As the lord stepped closer, Fergus' body became plagued with tension, and a growl rumbled in his throat. Alistair's eyes flashed with fury, and he lifted the blade up to the king's throat.

"Down, lad," he growled, pushing the gleaming sword into Fergus' neck.

"Alright, alright," the king uttered, clutching his throat with his hand as Alistair retracted his weapon.

The two men locked gazes; azure met hazel. An overwhelming urge, perhaps his sheer instincts, compelled the king to seize the smug man before him.

Fergus, as if being thrown forward by an unseen force, involuntarily lunged at Alistair, his weight and momentum slamming his foe against the far wall. Fergus ripped the sword from his adversary's grip, this time reversing roles and taking his turn at becoming a detrimental threat. All at once, his memory was clear.

"You!" he snarled, pressing the polished tip of the blade into Alistair's chest. "Thought ye could get the best of me? _You _took me away from my family!" he bellowed, thrashing his captive into the stone wall once more. "What did you do?!" he demanded, his voice close to deafening.

"Wha-wha-wha-what do ye mean?" Alistair stammered, a bead of sweat forming upon his brow.

"If you so much as laid a _hand _upon them after ye had me brought to this _hell _of yers, yer blood will be on _my _hands!" roared the king.

Alistair began to stutter once more. Fergus reveled in this sense of power he had achieved in a matter of brief moments; it was a glorious feeling.

"_Silence!" _he snarled, clenching his jaws as the defenseless lord continued to wriggle in his grasp. He currently held him up by one massive fist, gripping Alistair's sword in his opposite hand.

"Pl-please, I beg of ye," Alistair whimpered, his eyes gazing pleadingly into the king's furious orbs.

Despite the overwhelming urge to slay the lowly creature right where he dangled in his grasp, Fergus carelessly dropped the man to the ground.

The puny lord moaned, "Oh, bless you, King Fergus. Ye're truly a nobleman..."

"I am _leavin'."_ growled the king, his form heaving with angry breaths. "Right now."

As he turned and began his trek to the door, his wound grew aggravated, though he didn't wish to allow his eyes to witness just what condition he was in. He stopped and brought a hand to his torso, placing a hand upon the spot where the arrow had pierced him. Fergus thanked the stars it hadn't punctured him in a vital area; he would surely be doomed if it had.

Suddenly, he was tackled from behind, a steel shackle being snapped tightly around his wrist. His assailant yanked the attached chain with a force with which to be reckoned, and the king landed directly on the ground.

"Tut, tut," hummed Alistair, snapping yet another shackle around his captive's ankle. "Don't fight me." he whispered maniacally, raising one of the chains over his head and bringing it down on to the king with a swift snap of his wrist.

Fergus howled in pain as the sharp sensation jolted through his body, and he clenched his teeth as the unbearable remnants of the attack emanated from the site of his wound.

"H-how...?" he grunted, glancing up at Alistair.

"I thought as much," he said with a nod, slowly managing to pull the king across the floor. He began wrapping the chains securely around a bedpost. "I had a feelin' ye'd try somethin', ye savage brute. A smart man is always prepared for the unexpected, or, as the case may be, the _expected." _He removed a lock from his pocket as the king moaned. "Hush," he ordered, giving him a slight kick. "Not a sound."

Without another word, he took his leave.

* * *

Fergus lay alone for hours.

He unfortunately was forced to lie in an extremely uncomfortable position. His mobility was limited, as both his right ankle and wrist were chained to the bedpost.

After some time, his physical needs began to outmatch his emotional needs, as he was afflicted with a gnawing hunger in his stomach and a parched thirst. He ran his tongue over his lips; they were thoroughly cracked and bone-dry. He sighed wearily, gazing up at the hairline cracks in the ceiling.

Some time later, his heartache began to catch up with his desire for food, eventually surpassing it as he began to mull over his queen. Somehow, he had to get out of this prison he'd managed to get trapped in. Even if his queen never wished to gaze upon him again, he had to hear the truth for himself. Somehow, he would.

_I must._

* * *

A newcomer made a bustling entrance into the room, juggling a small plate of food and a glass of water. Fergus stirred and squinted as his eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room.

"Alistair gave me strict orders to refrain from this," Mary murmured, shutting the door behind her. It clicked as she turned the a key, locking the door from the inside. "But, I think ye're in need of somethin'."

Fergus attempted to sit up, but his efforts proved to be futile. Mary released a sound of distress as the king grimaced at the pain he was experiencing.

"Easy, now," she said gently, setting the plate down beside him. "Eat somethin'."

Fergus lifted a small loaf of bread from the plate, gazing at it intently before beginning to ravenously devour the morsel. He proceeded to gobble up the small hunk of cheese, brushing the remaining bits of food from his mustache. Mary grasped the glass of water, bringing it to his lips as he drank. He gulped down the liquid in an instant, retracting his mouth after he'd had his fill.

"Th-thank you," he murmured sincerely, though his face was incredulous. "But, why would ye-"

"I'm not cruel, m'lord." Mary responded. "My brother may come off as a wee bit abrasive, but he means well, I assure ye." Her eyes wandered and became distant, an eminent sadness contained within them.

Fergus scoffed. "Oh, aye. He has quite the arm, too!"

"Did he strike you?" inquired the Lady, offering him an empathetic gaze.

"Aye," grunted the king, bringing a hand to his injury, which was most assuredly bruised a deep purple by now.

"Oh, I am sorry." she murmured, fumbling with her hands.

"Ye... ye are?" Fergus uttered, a crease forming in his brow.

"Yes," she replied. "I've had a number of..." Her voice trailed off, and she shook her head.

"What?" urged Fergus, staring at her intently.

Mary shook her head back and forth once more. "Never mind." She locked eyes sincerely with him. "Would ye care to tell me a bit more about yer family?" Her voice suddenly became hushed. "Maybe... yer wife?"

Fergus' eyes brightened slightly. "Oh, my lass. She's very dear to me." he said sentimentally. "Even when we first met, I knew... I knew that I loved her. She just has a certain way of bringin' out the best in me." he murmured, surprised at his unusual sentimentality. "I wouldn't trade 'er for the world."  
"Oh, that's very touching," Mary said with a smile, bringing a hand to her heart. "Have ye ever told her that, m'lord?"

"I've never been all that mindful of what I say," Fergus confessed, taking his blunt impetuousness into consideration. "I just wish I could have the chance to tell her again how much she means to me."

Mary remained silent for what seemed like eons, then, she spoke. "You will."

Fergus furrowed his brow in a puzzled expression. "What?"

The Lady leaned in close, making the king rather uncomfortable. She said in a hushed tone, "Alistair will have my head if he finds out I-" She craned her neck to glance over her shoulder at the sound of footsteps. "Don't speak a word of this! Not a word!" she warned, her eyes reflecting a hidden yet intense fear. She flinched as Alistair's voice bellowed.

"Sister!" he yelled, his tone implying.

"Coming, dear brother!" Mary sang, subtly revealing to Fergus a small key that she had tucked into her slipper. The king's blue eyes widened like saucers as the Lady snatched the dishes from the floor and shoving them into a nearby set of drawers.

"Mary!" Alistair shouted, his voice growing more audible as he approached.

"Patience, sweet brother of mine!" Mary said in a huff, scampering toward the door. She removed the key from the lock, opening the door just as Alistair burst in.

"Conversin' with this man, are ye?" the lord interrogated, glaring coldly at Fergus, who still sported a dumbfounded expression.

"No, Alistair." Mary replied obediently, smiling warmly.

"Ah, I see. Exchangin' playful banter?" her brother guessed, offering Mary a suspicious glance.

"Of course not, brother." the Lady said sincerely.

"I trust ye've taken _good _care of this tumshie," Alistair said, kneeling down to pull Fergus' restraints impossibly tighter.

The king's wince caused Mary to frown.

"Er, yes! Yes, sir, I have. Indeed." she replied, clearing her throat with a slight chuckle.

"Then, I'll leave ye to it. Good night, sister." Alistair said with a nod, taking his leave from the room.

Mary offered a slight wave before making a mad dash to the door, slamming it shut and locking it with a swift motion. She hurried back to the king, falling to her knees beside him.

"Listen to me. Listen very carefully, now." whispered Mary sharply. "On the morrow, towards nightfall, I will help ye get out. No sooner, no later." She stretched across Fergus' body, slightly loosening the clutches of the chains. "Ye shan't see me 'til then." As the king opened his mouth to speak, Mary hushed him. "Keep yer voice _down!" _she ordered, tugging on the opposite set of chains. "Ye'll have to stay like this for some time longer. Stay strong, King Fergus." She rose to her feet, slowly backing towards the door. "I bid ye a pleasant evenin'..."

With that, she faded into the blackness of the hallway, and the Bear King, frozen where he was sprawled upon the cold, hard floor, was left to comprehend what sheer madness had just occurred.


	15. Chapter 15: The Escape

**Why, hello, there.**

**From this point onward, I plan on writing a mini author's note before and after the chapters, just detailing my thoughts on the chapter. I would really love all my readers to give me feedback, either through reviews or PMs. They give me encouragement and keep me wanting to write!**

**So, in this chapter, we get an in-depth look at Mary's POV. She's been a mysterious character up to this point, and not much was known about her. Secrets begin to spill in this chapter as things begin to unravel little by little, so I hope you all enjoy that little tidbit.**

**Either way, please inform me of your thoughts!**

Chapter Fifteen

* * *

"Somethin'," Alistair muttered, pacing back and forth across the floor, "somethin' makes him tick." He turned to a scrawny servant who had been studying his master with frightened eyes (this particular young man had witnessed his lord in this emotional state before, and he was wary of the consequences). "But, what?" As he noticed his servant's eyes becoming distant he donned a frown. "Gordon!" he snapped, drawing the young man's attention and eyes to him.

"Ay-aye, m'lord!" the lad stammered, beginning to tremble in the chair in which he sat.

"Gordon, pay attention!" ordered Alistair, offering him a threatening stare. "I'm pourin' out my thoughts and feelings to ye, somethin' I seldom do, and you just _sit _there, mouth agape? I won't stand for this!"

"I-I-I'm sorry, m'lord. I was just thinkin' about Mary-"

"My sister? Why on earth would she be on yer mind?" His eyes flashed with anger. "Ye have eyes for her, don't ye?"

"N-no, sir! I've j-just heard things... a-about the king ye have locked up."

"Ah, yes, Mary's playin' her part quite well, I must commend her for that," Alistair sighed, a satisfied grin creeping across his face. "All has been goin' accordin' to plan. Get close to the king... gain his trust. That step is nearly complete." He walked over to a nearby table, running his hand across a smooth chessboard. He lifted up a pawn, holding it between his thumb and index finger. "But..." he growled, gazing at the chess piece.

Gordon piped up. "What is it, m'lord?"

"I didn't expect him to be this difficult to break. We have to find his weakness, Gordon... or all our work, all our trials... it'll be for naught."

"_Yes, _Alistair, m'lord. We surely must." Gordon added with a nod. Alistair fell silent for several moments before placing the pawn back in its rightful place, its original position.

"Hm," he murmured. "Ye know, lad, I think I have a hunch. Oh, yes, that's _it." _He quaked with a hearty laugh.

"Er, what's it, m'lord?" his servant inquired, quite clueless.

"Are ye familiar with the game of chess, Gordon?" Alistair inquired vaguely, examining a few more pieces with a careful hand.

"Yes, sire." Gordon replied, stoically remaining seated in the chair.

"Well, then, as you know, the queen is the most valuable piece. She can make nearly any play." he took note, allowing this to sink in to the mind of his servant, his underling. He grinned as he glanced back to catch a glimpse of a subtle smile tugging at the corners of Gordon's mouth.

"I believe I can see where ye're goin' with this. Ever so clever." the servant uttered with a deep chuckle.

"Naturally," was Alistair's response. "With the queen out of the way," he said, using a knight to peg the queen off of the board, allowing it to catapult across the room and land on the floor with a _clack, _"the king is left quite defenseless, now isn't he?"

"Oh, it's brilliant, my lord! Simply brilliant!" Gordon said giddily, lurching forward and rushing to his master's side. "Wh-when shall we act it out?!"

"Patience, Gordon," Alistair insisted, lifting up a hand. "I assure ye, it will be a piece of cake. The way to _him_ is through _her. _Yes, if the queen falls, the king falls, and soon the entire kingdom will follow the royal couple's _glorious_ example._" _uttered the lord with a chuckle, indicating his sickening amusement.

"Aye, aye," Gordon said hastily, accompanying his lord out of the room. "But, how will we go about doin' this?"

"Tease the beast with a piece of meat." Alistair said vaguely. Gordon sported a puzzled and confounded expression. Alistair began quickening his pace as he spotted Mary making her way down the corridor.

"Good day, lads," she said cordially, bowing her head.

"Hello, Mary. How is our good king fairin'?" he questioned sarcastically, offering Gordon a smug grin as a sideways glance. The man snickered.

"Oh, he's doin' _quite _well," she said with a wink, toying with her blonde hair. Tendrils hung before her eyes, supplying her with a coquettish aura.

"Ye informed him just as I instructed?"

"Yes."

"Has he confessed any more about the royal family?" Alistair inquired as the trio began to make their trek down the hallway.

"He has very tender feelings for the queen, that he's made quite clear," she replied.

"Very good," Alistair said joyously, clapping his hands together. "Ye _have_ been able to control yer own transformations, haven't ye, lass?"

"I have it under control, brother," Mary assured him, catching a glimpse of her sibling's sinister pair of eyes and sly grin.

"Grand. I knew I could count on you, Mary. Mother and father would be thrilled, wouldn't they?" he mused aloud, sighing with pleasure.

"Y-yes, Alistair, they _would _be very proud, indeed." Mary spoke hesitantly, unsure.

Alistair turned to his sister, furrowing his brow in suspicion. "Mary? Is yer... _heart... _not in this? Do ye have... _qualms?"_

Mary's eyes filled with an indeterminable expression that caused Gordon to cower behind his lord.

"Alistair, ye're sorely mistaken, I assure ye." she retorted, resting her hands upon her hips in defiance.

"Good." Alistair grunted, donning an unclear expression. He gazed austerely into his sister's eyes. "Because, dear sister, when that kingdom falls, ye'll either be with us or against us."

"Yes, dear brother, I am aware." Mary assured him with a nod. Alistair nodded as well, his being out of sheer satisfaction.

Mary locked her knees as the two men continued on their merry way, laughing and conspiring, and a sick feeling formed in the pit of her stomach. What had she done? Promising that beastly man she'd aid him – ha! She was weak; she was nothing but a disheartened woman with a frail heart. Did she truly care for him? Or was it possibly a hasty decision out of pity at a moment's notice? Surely it was the latter.

On the other hand, perhaps allowing the king to rekindle his romance for the time being was a wise choice. It would be much harder on him if he himself witnessed the terror his beloved would experience. That was, if she revealed to him the sorrow she had put on display after her king had made his daring escape. Although, perhaps she could bide her time; the entire clan DunBroch believed the king was dead. Alistair planned on keeping it that way for as long as feasibly possible before the king managed to overpower him, and Mary was quite certain he soon would. Her brother was proud, but not ignorant – nor was he naïve. He knew, as did she, exactly how much of a potential threat King Fergus could be, especially when his family and clan were at stake.

She had until sundown to mull over her fateful decision. One path would result in her brother's wrath; the other would result in the wrath of a quite robust man who possessed the strength of ten men. She shuddered at the thought. If she failed to uphold her promise, he may grow violent.

"I mustn't risk it." she resolved, folding her arms.

She'd allow him to go – perhaps blame her brother's provincial right-hand man for not chaining him up tightly enough. Gordon didn't deserve it, the poor dear, but it had to be done. Alistair honed his skills in swords on most nights; Mary supposed this night would be no different.

As soon as the lord retired to bed, she would make her move; she could only hope it wouldn't result in a checkmate.

* * *

Night fell steadily over the kingdom, the sun seeking refuge behind the trees. On one side of the Highlands, a certain family cried themselves to sleep for the third night in a row, while on the other side of the mountain, things were quite different.

Mary, clad in her nightgown and contemplating the events that were to occur within the next several minutes, lay in her bed. She faintly picked up the sound of her brother, howling with laughter, stride past her bedroom and retire to his. A door slammed shut, and all fell silent.

The Lady slid carefully out of bed, fearful of even causing the floorboards to creak beneath her feet. She scurried to her bedroom door, carefully turning the knob and pulling it open without a sound. She poked her head out through the slightly ajar door, glancing up and down the hallway. As she came to the realization that the coast was very much clear, she emerged from the doorway and continued with her endeavors.

* * *

The king was beginning to believe his savior would never come to his aid. He was foolish to trust her; he should have tried to escape while he had the chance. He growled at the irritating urge he felt to toss and turn, but his shackles rendered him quite unable to do anything requiring movement.

Fergus' eyelids grew heavy. He had to gain some rest if he hoped to have the strength to defend himself if need be. He was ashamed that he was beginning to lack his usual physical strength. He'd barely eaten a scrap of food in days, and he was growing quite weak. Normally, his diet consisted of much more, and his body was simply not willing to accept such a sudden change of pace.

Just as he was drifting off, a door swung open, and the king quickly opened his eyes, becoming tense as he prepared his defense mechanism.

"King Fergus, we haven't much time," whispered Mary sharply, rushing to his side and beginning to pick the lock on his shackles.

"Is this really goin' to happen?" Fergus asked, wearily yet incredulously. He could scarcely believe this sworn enemy of his would be willing to help him in any way.

"Yes," snapped the woman, sighing in relief as she finally pried the shackle off of his ankle. She then turned her attention to his wrist, beginning to go to work.

"Wh-why are ye doin' this?" inquired the king, slowly sitting up.

"Alistair is plannin' somethin'," she spoke anxiously, "somethin' involvin' yer kingdom."

Fergus' blue eyes instantly turned from solemn to enraged.

"And what of my clan? My family?!" he demanded, seizing her by the arm.

"Th-that's all I know, Yer Majesty, I'm tellin' ye!" she said sheepishly, her green eyes filling with concern.

"Why should I trust you?" he growled, yanking her closer. "You... ye tried to seduce me... tear me away from my queen... I have no reason to heed yer words."

"King Fergus, ye have no choice but to give me a second chance. I'm yer only hope of gettin' out of here!" she replied, her tone pleading and desperate. "I'm willin' to help ye."

The king furrowed his brow in a defiant yet thoughtful frown, and a moment of silence passed before his expression softened a bit.

"Fine." he grumbled, letting her loose.

"Let's hurry to it, then," Mary said urgently, rising to her feet. She strode over to a lantern that hung on the wall, hastily lighting it with the flame of a nearby torch. She turned back to the monarch that lay wriggling on the floor. "What're ye waitin' for? The sky to fall?"

"If ye haven't already noticed, m'lady," he grunted, "_I'm_ _missin' a leg!" _

"One leg will have to do," she sighed, scurrying to his side and helping him to his foot. "Now, I'll take ye as far as the stables. After that, ye'll have to find yer way home on yer own. I trust ye can handle that task by yerself?"

"Aye, I can." he stated matter-of-factly as he rolled his eyes, slightly offended that this woman would even question his abilities.

"I'll let ye take my horse. He's obedient. He won't give ye any trouble." she added, leading him to the door.  
"Grand," he replied stoically, focusing all of his attention on using his one good leg to hop. Mary offered him some support, but not a great amount.

As they walked, Fergus was far too proud to admit that he was beginning to grow tired. The muscles in his legs began to slowly give way, his calf trembling more and more with each step he took. Mary appeared to take note of his weariness intensifying, as she piped up at this moment.

"Just a wee bit farther, you can do it. If ye can fight off a bear, ye can do this." she said with a grunt, giving the king a slight shove in the direction they were walking as his knee nearly buckled.

"Aye, ye're right," he said, rousing his determination. _That's a first, this lass having a point, _he thought, groaning as he pushed through the cramp in his leg.

Mary abruptly swerved down a different corridor, and a moment passed before the duo arrived at a large wooden door. She placed a hand upon the handle, giving it a gentle tug. The door opened with ease, and she led him the rest of the way to a nearby stable; Fergus figured this was where her trusty steed resided.

"Wait here a moment," she said, disappearing into the stable.

The king remained where he was, plopping down upon a knoll to rest. The journey that had just been made (on any other day it would've been an easy feat for Fergus) had taken quite the toll on him. His companion returned a moment later with a rather large boot in hand, kneeling down to slip it quickly on to his foot.

"A snug fit," Fergus observed, wincing slightly, "but it'll do. I don't have much of a choice..."

"No, ye certainly don't," she replied sternly, walking over to a nearby pine and hanging the lantern from a low branch. She then returned to her horse's stable as the king pulled himself up using the tree as support. Mary revealed to him a powerful white stallion; the horse's muscles rippled in anticipation of the upcoming gallop through the glen. He was quite the fine specimen.

"Would ye look at that animal," marveled Fergus as the horse pounded a hoof on the dirt. The stallion appeared to snort in response to the king's statement, swishing his tail back and forth.

"Aye, he's my proud and joy." Mary said eagerly, leading the horse by the reins over to the monarch and dropping them in his hand. "Take good care of him, now."

"I will, lass, I will." he assured her, gripping the reins. He gazed intently at the horse, trying to figure out the best way to mount the steed. One would normally place his or her foot firmly in the left stirrup, then swing his or her right leg over the animal before inserting his or her right foot in the opposite stirrup, but, considering the king's lacking of one key component, this process could definitely eliminated. As Mary situated the saddle blanket and saddle upon her horse's back, she allowed her emerald eyes to momentarily lock with his azure.

"Can ye manage?" she inquired, walking around the animal to assess the situation.

"Aye, aye," he replied, grasping the saddle with both hands and hoisting himself up on to the steed. The stallion pawed the ground once more, flaring his nostrils with an audible snort. Fergus placed his feet sturdily in the stirrups, grabbing the pommel with a firm hand. "Thank ye, Mary. Or, should I say, Mollie."

Mary nodded subtly with a slight shrug. "Best of luck in yer travels."

"Sincerely, I thank you." he insisted cordially, smiling warmly as she gazed up at him. The moonlight twinkled in her eyes; she really was quite fair, if one was to study her long enough.

"Godspeed," she murmured with a nod, gesturing for him to be on his way.

Fergus mirrored her nod, saluting her a final time before tearing off into the forest.

* * *

**I really hope you enjoyed this segment. I'm really trying to make sure chapters are longer and longer, but I'm really busy and I'd rather have a lot of shorter chapters coming out one after the other than a single long chapter here and there. I find (out of personal experience, as well) that it keeps the reader's attention and keeps them coming back for more. You know how I love some good suspense.**

**I hope that Mary is getting a little more on your good side, as she was meant all along to not be entirely evil. If I had to describe her as anything, I would describe her as a bit torn. She can't find her place, and she's constantly battling her inner conscience. Alistair, on the other hand, is an obvious baddie. You can't help but detest him in all of his disgusting glory.**

**Until next time, stay tuned!**

**(P.S.: For those of you avid Ferginor shippers out there, there is a chance that there may be some, well, what you all refer to as, erm... _'sexytimes' _in the next couple of segments? /blush) **


	16. Chapter 16: The King Returns

**Hello!**

**As I mentioned at the end of the previous chapter, this segment does contain some mature, lovey-dovey themes, but I doubt many guys read my work anyway. C: Hehe, just warning you all.**

**This chapter does consist mostly of Ferginor, so I hope I did well with illustrating their reunion.**

**Enjoy this chapter, fellow Brave fans.**

* * *

Chapter Sixteen

* * *

An owl screeched overhead as it soared past the silver crescent moon, and an eerie calmness fell over the glen.

Fergus shifted himself uncomfortably in the saddle, muttering irritably under his breath. The king found it much more difficult to ride a horse with the use of only one leg, as his balance was noticeably off-center. He resolved to simply learn to get used to it; he figured he had a day's worth of riding to do if he continued at this pace. Fergus estimated he would arrive home by sundown the next day, provided there were no obstacles in his way.

His stallion nickered as the horse and rider came to a rather treacherous path, and the animal halted, pawing his hoof on the ground in defiance. Fergus encouraged him to go onward, and he took a hesitant step forward, beginning the trek up the mountain. The king, though he also desired to avoid the mountainous region, knew it had to be crossed in order to reach their destination.

Fergus righted himself after the horse briefly lost his footing, the ground giving way and sliding beneath his hooves.

"C'mon now, lad," Fergus pleaded, giving the reins a tug as the horse began to become noticeably frustrated. His ears bent backward as he gave an indignant snort. The king pressed fervently, "Ye can do it, we've come too far to give up now. Ye're my only hope."

The steed, as if understanding his master's words, snorted once more, but took a steady step forward. Carefully, he inched up the steep incline, determination emanating from him. Fergus experienced the urge to gallop up the trail, as he longed to get home as soon as possible; he just had to see his family as soon as feasibly possible, and, of course, he ached to see his lovely Elinor.

He trembled with anticipation at the thought of her. The king hoped, with all his heart and with every fiber of his being, that his fair queen would be forgiving of him, that she would throw her arms around his neck at the sight of him and delight him with some affection. But, if it wasn't meant to be, and she resolved never to forgive him of his mistakes, he would leave her, as he rightly should. Or, perhaps she would grant him the chance of redeeming himself. He prayed she would.

In any case, he knew better than to urge the stallion to speed up to a full gallop, and so he settled for a steady, cautious stride. He couldn't be assured that he wouldn't fall off as a direct result of his recklessness; he couldn't take any chances whatsoever, as a gamble may very well cost him his life.

* * *

As he reached the peak of the mountain, Fergus could just barely make out the sun peeking over the horizon. The picturesque view was breathtakingly incredible. In the far distance, the sea sparkled with the soft glow of the sun, and Fergus grinned at the sight of the foamy waves splashing up upon the rocks, chasing several seabirds away from the shore.

His steed shook his mane in the wind, and the king could easily comprehend what the horse was feeling. It was a feeling of freedom; though they were completely isolated, they could never truly be alone. The call of the eagle overhead, the whispering in the trees, and the giddy chirping of birds indicated that life was everywhere.

Fergus was returned to reality at the audible growling of his stomach. He had been so engrossed in the scenery up until that point that he scarcely had taken note of his own hunger. He allowed his blue eyes to glance upon his horse. Surely, he was in need of something as well.

"What do ye say we stop for a rest, soon as we reach the foot of the mountain?" he inquired rhetorically of the stallion, who tossed his head in the air, appearing to nod. "Well, then, let's be off," Fergus said with a nod, encouraging the horse to proceed with a gentle kick. "Whoa, there, lad!" chuckled the king as the animal took off at a trot. "We'll get there in good time, don't ye worry. Hey, now, I want to get someplace too," he added, slowing the horse down back to a walking pace, "but I'm not goin' to take the chance of ye stumblin'. Then neither of us will get home, eh?"

With a lighthearted, booming laugh from Fergus, the travelers pressed on.

The journey down the mountain was much less trying than the journey up. At last, the starving man and animal reached the bottom, and Fergus' heart skipped a beat at the sight of a trickling stream.

Slowly, the king guided the horse to the water, and the animal ravenously began to quench his thirst. As he drank, his rider slowly slid out of the saddle, touching his one good foot to the ground. Silently, he crawled across the forest floor and sought refuge under a tree. Casually, he began to gobble up berries off a nearby bush. He was quite knowledgeable about the wilderness, and he was educated on numerous survival strategies. Unbeknownst to the queen, he took every opportunity he could to pass on his advice to their children.

The horse rose its head from the stream and loyally began to walk over to the king. The monarch raised a hand and rubbed the stallion's velvet muzzle, and the animal gave a low, cordial nicker. He lowered his head as Fergus arose from his resting spot, and the king hopped over to the stream for a drink himself. He lowered a hand into the clear, icy water, sipping until he'd had his fill. He glanced over his shoulder at his trusty ride home, smiling as he spotted the creature happily grazing upon the lush, green grass.

After the travelers had satisfied themselves on what meals they could scrounge up, Fergus mounted the eager stallion.

"Alright, lad, breakfast's over," he informed the horse, settling into the saddle. The animal appeared to scoff with a loud snort, but he complied with the king's orders nonetheless, seeming to nod with a wild tossing of his head as they continued on, growing closer and closer to their destination with the passing moments.

* * *

"M-my queen," Maudie whispered hesitantly, gently pushing open the door. "Would ye care for anythin' to nibble on?" she asked, though she already knew what answer the monarch would give.

"No, Maudie," replied a weak voice, and to anyone unaware of who resided in this particular bedchamber, one would never believe it to be the once proud and confident Queen Elinor.

"Can I do _anythin' _for ye? Anythin' at all?" she inquired, frowning with empathy as a gasping sob arose from the room.

"No, thank ye," murmured Elinor, exhaling shakily.

With a nod, Maudie quietly shut the door once more.

The queen rarely faced the light of day these days – neither did Merida or the triplets, for that matter, which came as quite a shock to their mother. She had half a mind to go induce them to participate in some mischief, something she'd normally frown upon.

Elinor knew she was being selfish. She couldn't dwell on the past or the memory of her husband forever; she had children, and she still had a family. The image of the king flashed in her mind, and a fresh supply of tears began to drip upon her pillow.

Rapidly, she propelled herself out of bed, forcing herself to venture to the outside world. With a tormented sigh, she trudged across the corridor to her daughter's room. She gave the door a soft knock, and the red-haired lass opened the door a moment later, her blue eyes brimming with tears.

"I can't do this, Mum," she whimpered, sniveling into her mother's gown as the queen embraced her.

"Oh, yes, ye can," Elinor murmured into her curls, which became dampened due to her own tears. "Ye must..."

"Why did it have to happen, Mum?" moaned Merida, her back heaving with a sob. Elinor attempted to choke out a response, but she could only release more tears.

"Oh, darling, we'll pull through," whispered the queen with a soft sob.

"H-how Mum? How can we possibly-" Her voice trailed off, and she instantly wriggled out of her mother's grasp, taking a step back. As the queen made an attempt to speak, the princess quickly hushed her. "Shh, Mum, do ye hear that?" she asked, her blue eyes suffusing with an odd joy. "M-M-Mum, it sounds like Dad."

"Oh, no, Merida," murmured Elinor, shaking her head. "We all... _loved _him," she whimpered, (she dreaded the use of such a word as _loved), _"but we musn't-"

_"Mother,_ I _know _it's him!" shrieked Merida, scrambling through the doorway and disappearing out of sight.

Elinor caught a glimpse of her triplet boys emerging from their bedroom, glancing at her with tear-stained albeit excited gazes for an instant before racing after Merida.

"Oh, my darlings," lamented the queen, burying her face in her hands, muffling her tortured cries as she retreated back to her bedchamber, losing her strength as she toppled upon the bed in a heap.

* * *

"Dad? D-Dad?" Merida squeaked, tears rolling down her cheeks. The triplets clung to her skirts, gazing pleadingly up at their sister. _Please, please let it be him – for the boys' sake, at least. Please._

Her father's voice echoed, calling to her. No, it couldn't be; this was all a dream. Her mother was correct, and her father was very much dead.

A delighted call of her name reverberated throughout the halls once more, and she bounded down the stairs, frantically screaming for her father as the triplets began to aid her.

At last, a glorious sight was beheld by four pairs of tearful, blue eyes. Fergus - the king, their beloved _father - _appeared, anxiously hopping toward his four overjoyed children. They met him halfway, and he tumbled to the floor as they propelled themselves into his arms. The reunited family rolled about, scarcely able to breathe as they shared innumerable hugs and kisses.

"Oh, my wee lads and my darlin', bonnie lass!" cried Fergus with an ecstatic bout of laughter. "I never thought I'd see ye again!"

"Oh, Dad, ye're alive!" exclaimed Merida, tears rapidly flowing down her cheeks. "I don't... I _can't_ understand!" She shook her head furiously. "Och, it doesn't matter!" she sobbed, laughing tearfully as her father wiped away her tears with his thumbs.

"Merida, lass," he said fondly, pulling her into his firm grasp. He gathered his sons in his arms as they crawled all over him, sniveling as they all three produced tears of sheer joy. "Boys, I hope ye didn't cause too much trouble for yer Mum while I was gone," he chuckled, embracing them. His azure eyes filled with worry at the thought of his queen. Merida sniffed and silently gestured toward the stairs, offering him a solemn smile.

His children obliged in giving him support as he ascended the flight of stairs (the triplets were of little help, but he was touched that his family was so loyal to him), and his heart skipped a beat. Within moments, he would be reunited with the woman he loved – the mother of these four beautiful children of theirs. What would she think of him? He nearly began to lose his nerve, but he steeled his courage, overpowering his cowardly inhibitions. He would face her, no matter what. If she accepted him, that was grand; if she rejected him for the way he had acted, then he would find a way to cope with such a heartbreaking revelation.

He inhaled sharply as he finally reached the top of the stairs, which had seemed like the tallest mountain in the land with only the use of one leg, not to mention having been forced to hop - but the emotional toll was far heavier.

He glanced at his daughter, who offered him a supportive, encouraging smile. She rolled her eyes at his sheepishness, raising her brows and indicating toward the door to the royal bedchamber. As her father lurched forward and gripped the doorknob with a newly discovered determination, she released a slight chuckle out of discomfort, quickly shooing her brothers away as they exchanged puzzled glances with one another. Merida nodded over her shoulder as she and her brothers disappeared out of sight, leaving their father to battle with his inner conscience.

He donned a firm expression, preparing himself to bash the door down if need be. Alternatively, he slowly allowed the door to creak open, drawing a short gasp and slightly withdrawing his body from the doorway at the sight of his fair lady resting upon their bed.

"Maudie, I appreciate yer sympathy, but I wish to be left _alone_," she whispered in a muffled voice, her voice catching.

A grin spread across the king's face; she _did _appear to still care for him, after all. Had all his fretting been unnecessary?

"Are ye sure, Eli, dear?" he asked, his smile turning soft and loving as his beloved Elinor bolted upright in bed. The candlelight accentuated her frantic expression – her incredulous, amber eyes, gaping mouth, and tears cascading down both sides of her gorgeous visage.

"_F-Fergus?" _she murmured shakily, breaking down in sobs as he made his entrance.

Before the king could respond, his wife was upon him, her force causing the door to slam shut behind him. He slowly sunk to his knees as Elinor forcibly wormed her way into his arms, kissing him all over his face. Her actions inhibited him from catching his breath to speak, but he dared not complain.

"Elinor," he finally purred, placing his hands upon her shoulders so he could lock his eyes with her shimmering, brown ones. She refused to say a word, continuing her endeavors involving the planting of kisses upon his face.

Though his leg trembled beneath his weight, he rose from the floor and tumbled on to their bed, landing upon his back as Elinor succumbed to even more sobs.

"Is it really _you?"_ she whimpered, giving him no chance to reply yet again, as her lithe body began to shudder and quake with her crying. "Oh, darling, ye're _back," _she choked out, running her fingers through his curly locks of hair. "Just... let me _touch_ ye... let me _feel _ye." the queen murmured, nuzzling her face up to his as she lovingly pressed their lips together, moaning softly all the while.

Her teardrops landed upon his lips, tasting of a sweet, morning dew, and Fergus deepened their passion, chuckling delightedly into her mouth. After some moments passed, he broke the kiss, his mustache and bearded chin thoroughly soaked from his wife's uncontrollable tears.

"What are ye tryin' to do, love?" he murmured, teasingly placing a hand upon the small of her back. "Wash me away? Is there really a need for all this water?"

"I c-c-can't _h-help _it, Fergus," she sobbed helplessly, burying her face in his neck.

"Then, let it out, darlin'," he whispered, wrapping his arms around her comfortingly. "Just let it all out..."

Fergus was rather inexperienced when it came to the secrets of a woman's emotions, and he gently rubbed his queen's back as she continued to cry. He couldn't suppress the smile the crept across his face; her sobs appeared to be the result of stubborn tears of joy.

"Th-this isn't... some sort of dream?" she stammered, raising her head and using her delicate hands to caress his face, assuring that he was indeed real. "I'm n-not just imaginin' this?"

"No, m'dear," he replied joyfully, kissing her forehead. "I'm here." Tendrils of her hair clung to her dampened face, and he gingerly brushed them back, gazing amorously into her tearful eyes.

"B-but I saw the lot of them chasin' ye, and then I saw ye fall, a-and then, they recovered yer leg w-with that arrow..." Her breathing began growing even more uneven, as she believed this to be far too good to be true. No matter how desperately she tried to sustain her composure, her emotions persisted in dragging her down. She continued weakly, "I thought ye were... w-were..."

"...dead?" the king finished hesitantly, furrowing his brow in concern as his wife buried her face in his tunic with a soft sniff.

"_Yes," _she breathed. "D-don't... say that _word." _

Her cries began growing all the more distraught, and Fergus simply couldn't understand. He was with her right at this moment, and she was still suffering.

She hiccuped with a sob, and her king could no longer witness her pain. Gingerly, he placed her upon her back, and she drew a short gasp as she widened her eyes, as if she were fearful he would leave her or desert her during this time – her time of need.

Her husband reassured her of his loyalty with a soft kiss upon her lips, gently making a motion with a giant hand as he allowed her gown to slip off of one of her shoulders, expertly continuing his affections as he participated in such multitasking. Her stomach pleasantly fluttered in response to the attention her king was paying to her, and she seized his head in her hands, placing repetitive, forceful kisses upon his mouth.

Tears still continued to roll down her cheeks, though Fergus sensed she was growing more and more calmed after each passing moment. The king, meanwhile, intended to prove to her that he was indeed alive and still possessed his usual vigor. No matter what adversities he faced, he constantly longed for the chance to share passion with his Elinor.

He gently brought a hand to her bare shoulder, and she sucked in a breath at his touch. Although faint, a tinge of a blush heated her cheeks, and he lightly kissed the rosy patches decorating her fair skin. Fergus assumed that she very much approved of his actions, as her twinkling, bright eyes, which until this moment had remained shut in her attempt to gain her elusive composure, slowly fluttered open and locked with his.

Moisture still glimmered at the corners of her eyes, and as her husband lightly kissed her bare shoulder, she laughed tearfully, at last becoming freed from her inhibitions. A final, stray tear of joy escaped and ran down her face in a thin rivulet before being kissed away by her king, who bumped his forehead gently into hers.

"I'm sorry for losin' control the other night, dear," Fergus whispered, lightly touching her face. "Oh, Eli, please don't do this," he pleaded as a fresh supply of tears poured down his wife's cheeks. "I can't stand to see my lass cry."

"Fergus," she began, gathering all the strength she could in order to come off as stern, "you only owe me an apology for not comin' home sooner." She couldn't help but allow a soft giggle to be let loose as the man hovering over her made a game of catching her teardrops before they landed on her pillow, wiping them away with the pads of his thumbs.

He delighted her with a smile, hugging her as a bear naturally would, and Elinor sighed in contentment as she was embraced snugly in his arms, though a single tear continued to fall here and there.

"Elinor..." he murmured into her neck, causing her to shiver with pleasure as he placed a long, ravenous kiss upon her skin. He brought her impossibly closer, to the point at which Elinor firmly believed they would fuse together.

"D-dear?" she responded, curling her toes as he began to take the liberty of peeling off her gown.

She sensed her heart begin to race with anticipation at his loving touch. She truly never expected to experience such a wonderful feeling ever again, and there was no earthly way of describing how happy she was; her tears were now tears of ecstatic joy. Elinor began to ache for her beloved's caress.

"Are ye alright with this, Elinor?" he murmured hopefully, chuckling in pleasant surprise at her affirmative answer.

"Oh, _yes," _she giggled softly, and her husband placed her gently upon her back, nuzzling his face gently against hers.

As he continued to tease her with the monotonous removal of her dress, she gazed at the top of their canopy bed, attempting to avoid her king's eyes as her face glowed with a shade of crimson. She momentarily heard the sound of her husband's laughter, and she craned her neck slightly at an angle to gaze into his wonderful, gorgeous, azure eyes. They reflected a mischievousness that alerted her to his excitement.

"Why, hello there, lasses." he chimed with a cheeky grin. "Ye don't know how happy I am to see ye again."

Elinor gasped as the heat of her face intensified, and she grew slightly flustered, feeling the overwhelming, powerful urge to fold her arms across her chest, thereby concealing her womanhood. She triumphed over her modesty, however, and she simply proceeded to mirror her husband's smile, giving a slight gasp.

He lurched forward and delighted her with a lustful kiss to the lips, sending her head back down to her pillow once more. She sighed dreamily as he broke the kiss, utterly unsatisfied, only to release an interjection seconds later after a frisky move on her husband's part.

"_Fergus,"_ she squeaked, her amber eyes gazing at him incredulously yet amorously.

A smug grin crept across the king's face, and the queen couldn't resist smiling as well as he crawled up beside her, gently placing his hand upon the nape of her neck and drawing her in for another kiss.

"Hm?" he inquired innocently as he kissed her, pulling back after a moment. He donned a crestfallen expression; the loss of her enthusiasm disenchanted him. "Well, I see that ye don't want to make up for lost time..." he sighed heavily, turning away from her with a grin that indicated his sarcasm.

"Fergus, _please _don't do this to me." she whispered, seizing him by the shoulders and initiating another passionate kiss. He tumbled back upon their bed, hugging her bare form close to him. A teardrop landed upon his cheek once more, and he tore away, gazing at her with frantic worry.

"What is it, dear? I'm not bein' too rough for ye, am I?" he pressed with concern, pulling her closer as tears began spilling down her cheeks once more. He thought this had been cured; why couldn't he give his beloved wife and queen the happiness she deserved? Her back heaved, and he persisted, "Answer me, Elinor!"

_"I love you." _she sobbed, hugging his neck. "I thought I had lost you. Oh, Fergus, I could barely breathe for the past three days. That last conversation you and I had... I wouldn't _ever _be able to forgive myself if the last words we spoke to one another were part of an argument..." She paused to take a breath at last. "I thought... I thought I would..." She repeatedly kissed him as tears rolled down her cheeks and landed upon his tunic, unable to form the words she wished to speak. "...I didn't think I could ever go on livin' without ye," she murmured shakily, and she gave a quiet, tearful laugh as the king allowed her to dry her eyes upon the fabric of his tunic, "so, before I run the risk of losin' ye again, I want ye to know how dear ye are to me..."

She fell silent as her husband showered her face with kisses, though she was a worthy adversary, as she battled with him to show affection, as well.

"Oh, Elinor, if anythin' happened to ye, I dunno what I'd do. I'd be lost without you..." he whispered, his booming voice muffled by her long, flowing locks of hair. "Ye know that, don't ye, dear?"

"I do," she replied with a dainty sniff, brushing a tear away as she offered him a smile.

_"'Course_ ye do," he chuckled, lifting her chin with a gentle hand. "That's why I want ye to know that I'm not goin' anywhere." he stated firmly, placing a lengthy kiss upon her nose. _"Ever." _

Elinor laughed tearfully as she brought a hand up to her nose, thereby relieving the ticklish sensation caused by her husband's mustache, and the man chuckled. He peeled back the covers and allowed her to seek refuge beneath the sheets.

"Now, let's keep ye nice and warm." he purred, joining her under the blankets as he ripped off his tunic. "I'll help ye. It's a wee bit drafty in here."

His wife blushed once more, her persistent tears dousing the fire that adorned her soft cheeks. The couple's enamored gazes met, and though the only outside source of light in the room was the silver hue of the moon, the soft glow of candlelight illuminated the bedchamber further, and Fergus and Elinor could just barely make out the tender expressions of one another. The trembling queen allowed her eyes to meet her husband's, and he laid a gentle hand upon her face, guiding his lips to hers. He proceeded to allow his curious touch to wander downward.

They at last succumbed to the needs of their respective beloved, the indescribably euphoric queen allowing tears of joy to cascade down her face all the while.

* * *

The king and queen rested upon their bed in the arms of one another, and the male monarch was the first to stir, giving a sigh of contentment at the sight of his beautiful lady. He hated to disturb her, but the bothersome urge to kiss her was all too much for him to resist. Gently, he pressed his lips to hers, and his heart, light as a feather, skipped a beat as she began to subtly return his affection.

Her eyelids slowly fluttered open during the osculation, and the king proceeded to lean in to kiss her neck, causing a giggle to arise from her. She rolled over, sporting a playful expression as she glanced over her shoulder. He seized her from behind, enveloping her in his arms as a shrill squeak escaped her.

The two lovers shared a laugh with one another, and the king stretched his neck over his wife's shoulder, placing a soft kiss upon her lips. He lifted up a hand to touch her face with a loving caress, and his wife drew a short breath, taking his hand in hers.

"Fergus, what happened?" Elinor asked softly, rolling over and studying the bruises on his wrists.

"Erm... shackles, Elinor," he whispered hesitantly, and his queen inhaled sharply once more. "Don't worry, love, I'm fine..."

"That doesn't make it just, Fergus!" Elinor exclaimed, bringing one of his hands to her face with a sound of distress. "What all did they do to you?" she asked, demanding an explanation with an evident, loving concern.

"I don't really want to speak of it, darlin'." he replied, knowing his fair Elinor wouldn't want to hear such details of his experience. Truthfully, he wished to deprive her of ever finding out.

"Fergus, I am the queen. But, my duty as yer wife comes first and foremost, and ye _will _tell me," she said firmly, and with a sigh, her husband peeled back the blankets, revealing a gruesome sight to her amber eyes.

A deep gash, accompanied with the wound caused by the arrow that pierced his flesh, had been slashed across his chest and stomach, a terrible fact she'd neglected to notice until that moment. She brought a hand to her mouth as it remained agape.

"Oh, darling, what is _this_ from?" she inquired, placing a gentle hand upon his wound. "It looks as if ye've been... _lashed." _

He sighed again as he confessed, "Aye, dear, I have been..."

Elinor's eyes flared. "With _what, _Fergus?"

"E-er... a chain."

"Did that horrible man do this to ye? Or that wicked sister of his? Who, Fergus? _Who?" _Elinor demanded, touching his wound gently. "Oh, this _will _have to be properly cleaned before it catches infection..."

"Calm yerself, Eli, I can take care of myself." he said gently, kissing his wife's forehead, but she was far too flustered to listen.

"Clearly ye _can't!" _she remarked, her eyes instantly softening at Fergus' hurt expression. "Oh, no, my love, I meant nothin' by that," she assured him, kissing his lips with a tenderness that pleased her husband to no end. She broke the kiss slowly, gazing into his eyes. "I'm sorry, Fergus. Ye were simply at a disadvantage."

"No, Elinor, ye're right," he sighed. "I just can't control myself... whenever I see that Alistair, I want to rip him to pieces, and when he had his arms around you..." he growled, embracing her possessively. "I couldn't stand it."

"Oh, darling, you _were_ jealous, hm?" she mused with a chuckle, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I thought as much..."

"N-no, no, ye've got it all wrong, lass," he stammered, his pride diminishing as Elinor offered him a knowing expression. "Fine," he groaned with a roll of his eyes, "maybe just a _wee_ bit... m-maybe I _did _want to tear him limb from limb. So what?"

Elinor giggled in amusement as her husband shrugged. "And I wished to do the same to that Mary," she admitted, bringing her lips close to his.

Fergus suddenly donned a blank gaze, neglecting to return his wife's passion. The queen furrowed her brow, caressing his chiseled features with a delicate hand.

"Fergus?" she murmured, toying slightly with his hair.

"Mary," Fergus stated, emotionless.

Elinor frowned further. "What's this about Mary?" she questioned, emphasizing the name as if it were a bitter taste in her mouth.

"She let me go, lass," the king confessed. "She's the sole reason why I didn't starve... why I'm here, with you... why we were able to share what we just shared, Eli."

He leaned in to kiss her soft, inviting lips as she contemplated what he had just uttered. Fergus was indeed thankful for Mary's decision to go against her brother's apparent wishes; being reunited with his queen and their children were well worth associating with such a mysterious and wayward woman.

Elinor released a sigh, snuggling closer to him as her weariness prevailed. Fergus cherished this private time he spent with his queen. He could only hope that villainous acquaintance of his would spare his family and come only after him.

But, he feared that would not be the case.

* * *

**Gahhh, I love this pairing to death.**

**Hope you all are pleased with this; until next time! ^^;  
**


	17. Chapter 17: In the Shadow of the Moon

**Here is the much awaited Chapter 17. I apologize for the wait!**

* * *

Chapter Seventeen

* * *

"...and, so, my lords," Elinor spoke, nodding her head as she gave them permission to rise from their bowing positions, "as the queen and diplomat to the clan DunBroch, I am obligated to inform ye of this recent development." She paused as her utterance took effect, and the clans standing before her all began to mutter amongst themselves. "Now, at first glance, the clan of Alistair and Mary appeared to be trustworthy, even cordial. But, the king has personally come to know a much darker side that they possess."

The queen paused once more for dramatic effect. Elinor felt an undying determination to punish her husband's torturer. She, for one, had resolved to not allow her beloved's suffering to be in vain. She took a deep breath, maintaining her composure, as she felt as if she may submit to tears at any moment.

"My queen, if ye don't mind my askin', what has exactly become of Fergus?" Lord MacGuffin inquired of Elinor, obviously concerned about his friend.  
Elinor chewed her lower lip; she certainly didn't wish to reveal too much at the moment – not without first consulting her king.

"I sh-shan't go into any more detail, but, I plead of ye all, remain vigilant. As allies of the clan DunBroch, ye can't afford to let yer guard down for a moment. This kingdom rests on the shoulders of each one of us."

Queen Elinor turned her head to glance at Merida, who gazed innocently into her mother's eyes. Elinor beckoned for her daughter to join her, and the princess, with a slight huff, reluctantly rose to her feet from her throne. The proud mother offered her daughter a smile as the lass subtly curtsied. Merida had agreed to accompany her in discussing the recent events with the lords, as an experience such as this would give her a great amount of experience for her future if she chose to be a well-respected diplomat such as her mother.

The queen beckoned for Merida to step forward, and as she did so, their fellow clans lowered themselves to one knee, displaying their respect for the mother and daughter. Merida cleared her throat and gazed upon the crowd.

"Y-yes. My mother... erm, the _queen, _rather, is correct. Wee Dingwall, Young Macintosh, and Young MacGuffin, the fate of our bond relies on our young people, as well." She laced her fingers together as her mother rested a hand upon her shoulder, and a proud feeling was instilled within the lass. "Um, that will be all." Merida stated, curtsying a final time to the lords. Elinor mirrored her daughter's curtsy, bowing her head as the clans took their leave.

"That was grand, Merida," Elinor said in a hushed tone, draping an arm over her daughter's shoulder as the guards allowed the large doors to firmly shut.

"Eh, I do try, Mum," Merida replied modestly, her thoughts becoming preoccupied as she caught a glimpse of the royal bedchamber. "How's Dad, Mum?" she inquired of her mother, whose amber eyes glanced over at her.

"As much as he disapproves, I've ordered him to rest for the day," Elinor responded as the two retreated to the tapestry room. The queen settled down beside the hearth, bringing her sewing into her lap. "Though he doesn't care to admit it, yer father has his limits."

"Aren't ye afraid he may change and escape?" Merida asked, her tone wavering with concern as she returned to the door and gazed down the hallway.

"Didn't ye see, darling?" chuckled the queen, gesturing toward the door. "I've entrusted in two of our finest guards the duty of keepin' a watchful eye on him."

Merida's heart lifted as her concerns grew assuaged. With a slight giggle at the thought of how much complaining her father was apt to badger her mother with later on, she retracted her body from the doorway and gently pushed the door shut, turning around to face the smiling monarch.

"Merida, dear, could ye give me a hand?" Elinor requested of her child, and the princess loyally lowered herself to her knees before her mother. Merida took the two bottom corners of the tapestry in her hands as Elinor unfolded the piece of art, beaming as she did so.

The tapestry was the very one that had been used to shield her mother from the clans' intrusive gazes the day of the second sunrise, though the stitches had been altered slightly in order to preserve the family heirloom.

"I just couldn't run the risk of allowin' this to fall apart," murmured the queen, hastily brushing a tear from the corner of her eye, "what with all the fond memories attached to it."

"Mum," Merida giggled fondly, capturing her mother in a hug.

"My darling," Elinor whispered, echoing her daughter's giggle. She placed a light kiss upon her daughter's forehead before folding the tapestry upon her lap. She caressed Merida's cheek with her palm, and the princess smiled, wrinkling her freckled nose.

After a moment, she released the queen from her embrace, turning away from her and gazing intently into the flames crackling in the hearth. The hypnotic dance the fire was participating in enchanted the princess; it was a refreshing getaway to a world free of strife and her own, personal troubles.

She had witnessed how noticeably uncomfortable her mother had been, speaking with the other lords about the recent circumstances and developments. The soft melody the queen was humming at that moment did not sway her daughter's opinion of what she was going through whatsoever - not a bit.

Queen Elinor, Merida could tell, was visibly concerned about the king. He was her husband, after all, but the princess was quite perplexed. Normally, as she had observed on a number of occasions, her mother would not allow any situation that bothered her to persist in doing so. So, why, Merida wondered, would the level-headed and insightful queen neglect to take action on this matter?

There was only one plausible reason. Her mother was afraid, and deathly so. Fear, though the woman was most often unable to recognize the definition of the word, was the only, single thing that would prevent the entirely incisive and quick-witted queen from blatantly speaking her mind and punishing the clan of Mary and Alistair for putting DunBroch's beloved Bear King in peril.

At last, her mother spoke, releasing Princess Merida from her trance.

"Merida? Ye're awfully quiet." the queen observed, setting her sewing down in her lap and gazing curiously at her daughter, her amber eyes reflecting the orange, burning flame. "Is somethin' on yer mind, dear?"

Merida slowly glanced over her shoulder, taking a breath.

"M-Mum, are you worried about Dad at all?" the princess inquired, locking her eyes with her mother's as she approached the monarch. "Be-because, well, I... well, Mum, as the future queen, I think I have the right to know what our course of action is goin' to be."

Elinor blinked before inhaling deeply and staring at the needle and thread in her small hands. Her daughter's interest in the matter at hand was very commendable in her eyes.

The silence continued for what seemed like forever to the expectant princess. Just as Merida was about to persist, her mother responded to her query.

"To tell ye the truth, love, I don't know quite yet. We're sure to come to a decision soon, however." Lightly, the queen touched her daughter's arm with a motherly concern. "Has this been botherin' ye, Merida?"

"A-aye," the lass replied, shifting her weight from one foot to the other in a hesitant fashion. "We can't afford to let them come after him again, Mum!" Merida inadvertently allowed a stray tear to roll down her fair cheek, and Elinor instantly rose to her feet at this gruesome sight.

"Oh, Merida, darling, why didn't ye tell me ye were so upset about this?" the queen murmured, speaking into her daughter's mop of curly, red hair.

"I guess I just couldn't find what to say," she confessed, returning her mother's affection as she wrapped her arms around her.

"I don't want ye worryin' about yer father," Elinor said gently. "Yer father is stubborn as anythin'," she assured Merida in the form of a chuckle, kissing her forehead. "In fact, ye remind me so much of him – especially when he was yer age." Her mouth curved into a smile at this thought, and she stifled a lighthearted chuckle with her hand at the fond memories of her husband at a younger age. She glanced back at her daughter, overjoyed at the sight she beheld. "There, right there! That grin of yers is just as wide as his." she mused in a loving tone, embracing her child once more.

Merida sighed contentedly, and Elinor couldn't have been more pleased. The queen had expected no less concern coming from her daughter. After all, the princess shared just as close a bond with her father as she did with her mother.

"Well, then, do ye suppose we should give those poor lads a break from watchin' yer father?" inquired the queen of her daughter with a giggle, toying with a strand of her red hair.

"I s'pose we should," Merida replied, echoing Elinor's laugh. "He's probably stark ravin' mad by now, Mum, bein' cooped up inside all day!"

The mother and daughter made their way to the door as they exchanged another bout of laughs with one another, and the queen twisted the knob and flung open the door as she heard a familiar voice.

"Fergus, if ye so much as set foot out of that bed..." muttered the queen under her breath, quickening her pace as she bunched her skirts in her hands. Elinor's eyes locked with those of the guards, and at that moment the two men had their backs to the door to the royal bedchamber with their arms outstretched, evidently trying their hardest to keep the person that dwelt within the room contained. The hearts of both the queen and princess jumped at this sight.

"Is he...?!" Elinor cried, approaching the door in her alarm. "Fergus, dear!"

"Elinor?" replied the muffled voice of the king, causing the queen to sigh in relief. "Lemme out, will ye?!"

"Oh, h-he's fine, m'lady!" one of the guards squeaked, and he adjusted his helmet as the king banged at the door once more.

"Fit as a fi-iddle!" concurred the second guard, nearly losing his balance as the door quaked with the force of the Bear King.

"Dad!" chuckled Merida, pressing her ear up to the door. "What're ye _doin'_ in there?"

"Oh, Merida, darlin'! It's you! Listen to me, lass! Talk some sense into that mother of yers!" whined Fergus, pounding on the door once more with his fist.

"Fergus, I'm openin' the door," Elinor said firmly, bringing a hand to the doorknob as the guards parted in her wake.

"Grand, Elinor! That's just what I want!" shouted Fergus giddily, seizing the doorknob in his paws.

"Oh, honestly," the queen muttered under her breath, inhaling as she sustained composure before opening the door.

"Alright, lass, I'll just be on my way..." her husband said, rubbing his hands together in anticipation at the thought of finally venturing out of his room.

Elinor raised a hand, signaling for him to fall silent, and he instantly complied with her demands. He wasn't unfamiliar with his queen's wrath, and the last thing he wished to do was induce her to give him the cold shoulder so soon after he had found his way back home. The fact that the royal couple was reunited was achieved out of sheer luck, and King Fergus hoped with every fiber of his being that it would be the final time they would be reunited; he never wished to be away from his wife again.

"That will be all, lads," his brown-eyed lass assured their guards. "I'll see to it _myself _that he doesn't run off."

The two men bowed their heads as they took their leave, leaving the family in their solitude. Elinor turned to face her husband once more, sporting a stern and determined gaze. "Come, Fergus, back to bed with ye," she ordered, pinching his earlobe with her petite hand. She gave it a gentle tug as she led him back their bed, and the king let loose an infantile groan as she did so. Meanwhile, his daughter giggled harmoniously.

"Elinor..." moaned Fergus, quieting down as he cowered at the sight of his wife's glare.

"Dear, ye've had quite the ordeal. Heaven knows how far ye traveled the other night," she said gently, tucking the sheets around her love as he reclined in bed. "Now, you just stay, and rest, and I'll be back shortly. I _promise." _she assured him at the sight of his pathetic gaze, pleasing him with a tender kiss to the forehead.

"Aye, Dad, don't be such a wee babby," Merida mocked her father with a giggle, wrinkling her freckled nose as his mouth curved into a grin.

"Oh, that's what I am?" the king shot back, though he was purely amused. King Fergus could only chuckle as he admired his two lovely lasses.

* * *

The queen groggily awakened to a darkened room, and her sleepy, amber eyes instantly fell upon the window. The thick curtains were not entirely drawn, and Elinor assumed the time of day or night, though she couldn't clearly distinguish which it was, was sometime during the wee hours of morning. Distant thunder rumbled in the distance, and the queen was instilled with a sense of comfort, as she was safe and warm in her bed, protected from the elements.

Sleep threatened to pull her under once more, but she resisted its clutches as fond memories of intimacy with her king began flowing back to her. With a smile and a soft, contented sigh, she relived the passionate moments she and her husband had shared the night before. Such moments, in which she and Fergus gave themselves entirely to one another, instilled her with such an intense ecstasy that it caused her undying love for him to grow, if such a notion was at all plausible.

Elinor allowed herself to frown as the painful memories of his confession came back to her, as well. He had nearly committed the worst atrocity she could possibly think of – taking his own, precious life away from his family. How could such an idea possibly come to his mind?

And then, he had nearly perished at the hands of a sneaky, conniving woman and that ne'er-do-well, brutish brother of hers. It was a miracle that her love was with her at all – in fact, it was purely good fortune that he was alive. So much had happened within a matter of days; she could scarcely allow it to sink in. She couldn't recall the last time she had been so concerned for him. She supposed it was when her king had suffered the loss of his leg those years ago. Thankfully, Mor'du was good and dead, and Elinor she took a subtle pride in the fact that _she _had been the woman to slay such a beast.

The queen's heart suddenly jumped at the thought of her darling husband, and she instinctively rolled over to face his half of their bed, hoping to catch a glimpse of her love's giant silhouette against the dim light of the room. To her sheer joy, she witnessed her husband's form rising and falling slowly with his steady breathing, and she released an audible, relieved sigh. The queen had actually been quite fearful; her initial thought had been that Fergus had possibly slipped out on her in the middle of the night. He had his back to her at the moment, and she wrapped her arms around him in an embrace.

Fergus slowly opened his eyes, and a grin crept across his face as he felt his wife's voluptuous form press against his. With a warm chuckle, the king stirred and rolled over to face his brown-eyed lass. He whispered her name, softly and lovingly, and snaked his arms under hers, resting his hands upon the small of her back and rubbing it gently. Elinor giggled softly at his loving touch.

"Did I wake ye, my love?" she inquired with a slight stretch. She lifted her arms, draping them over his shoulders and around his neck. She laced her fingers together and rested her head against his chest, smiling as she sensed their hearts beating in unison.

"Oh, darlin', I don't mind," he replied, kissing the apex of her head and tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. Truthfully, he didn't, as he relished every waking moment he spent with his queen.

Elinor appeared to be relieved, for she released a nearly inaudible, pleasured sigh.

"Ye're here," she murmured, snuggling closer to him as they cuddled. She rested her hands upon his chest, gently rubbing his pectorals. Elinor felt her husband moan gruffly through her palms as he stretched, and he proceeded to release a soft chuckle as he ran his fingers through her long tresses of chestnut hair.

"Where else would I be, lass?" he inquired, tenderly kissing her cheek.

"I-I was afraid ye might've run off," she admitted, returning his kiss as she pressed her lips to his.

"If I thought I was runnin' the risk of hurtin' you or the wee ones, I would've." he replied affirmatively after breaking the kiss.

"Oh Fergus, please, no..." she pleaded in a whisper. "D-don't leave without my knowin' again. I won't be able to survive it."

"Fine then, Eli, if it'll upset ye, I won't. Ye know I hate causin' trouble for ye."

His wife responded with a roll of her eyes at his sarcasm, and he raised his brows suavely, gently kissing her shoulder and lovingly pulling a thick quilt over her before giving her back a loving rub. He placed a final kiss upon her lips before sitting up and yawning audibly.

"What time do ye s'pose it is, love?" he asked, stretching.

"I've no idea, dear," she replied, softly echoing his yawn.

Her amber eyes gazed up at him, reflecting a love as strong as ever, and Fergus lurched forward, burrowing beneath the blankets and enveloping her in his arms. His wife shrieked with laughter as he impishly tickled her, and she restrained him with what strength she was able to muster, as his actions made it quite difficult for her to defend herself.

"Fergus, you beast!" she cried, attempting to squirm out of his arms with little success. "Y-you...! Ye stop this right now! Y-ye're goin' to wake up Merida and the boys! Dear!"

The king's massive form quaked with hearty laughter as he brought his queen close, kissing her head several times.

_"You _were the one causin' the ruckus, Eli, not me," he replied innocently, gazing at her with a pair of angelic, blue eyes.

Elinor continued to chortle, and as her laughs began to quiet down to soft chuckles, he placed both of his hands on either side of her face, caressing her soft cheeks and gently teasing her with his lips.

"I love you," she murmured, touching her nose to his.

The king's mouth curved into an ecstatic, sentimental smile.

"I think I love you more," he insisted, nuzzling her face in an ursine fashion.

"Oh, do ye?" she challenged, her amber eyes shimmering with mirth. Fergus could only grin.

"More than anythin', love."

The corners of Elinor's mouth curved upward in a playful simper, and she delightedly accepted the kiss her husband tempted her with.

"Fergus," she whispered, her eyes twinkling with joy.

"Aye, love?" he responded gruffly, placing a kiss upon her neck.

Elinor shook her head slowly, her lips curving upward in a smile. "For yer information, _l__adies _don't cause _ruckuses," _she replied, entirely sure of herself.

She gazed at him with her amber eyes, by which the king was quite entranced. Fergus responded to her comment as he locked their lips together, breaking the kiss moments later. Elinor rolled over in an effort to conceal the rosy tinge quickly morphing into a crimson blush upon her face.

"Fine then, I suppose ye're right, after all," the king replied with a chuckle. Fergus rolled over upon his back, lacing his fingers together on top of his chest. He slowly closed his eyes, and he momentarily felt his wife wrap her arms around his bicep as she snuggled closer to him. The king laid a hand upon the queen's, content to simply drift off once more at her side. Elinor sighed contentedly, smiling all the while; all was peaceful and entirely calm. Her king was at her side and their children were safe in their beds.

Or, so she thought.

* * *

Merida resolved that it was time to steel her courage. Her plan was simple enough; if all went well, she would be back before sunrise. Angus would surely be able to take her to and from her destination in a timely manner. If everything went as planned, the mission would be pulled off without a hitch.

Silently, the princess ripped back the sheets, unable to bide her time any longer. She had retired to bed in her gown, completely prepared to spring out of bed at a moment's notice. She crept hurriedly to her bedroom door, turning the knob with the utmost caution and turned it slowly to assure that it wouldn't squeak or cause any other noise that would possibly disturb her parents, who slept a short distance away.

She pressed her ear to the door, listening for a noise that may alert her to a stirring member of her family, whether it be one or all of the triplets, or, even worse, one of her parents. The distant rumbling of her father's snoring could easily be distinguished from down the hallway. Merida furrowed her brow and donned a determined gaze. This was it; she just had to be brave.

With a quick whistle, the princess called for the aid of both Seamus and Donnan, then waited several moments in the silence. They could usually be found snoozing in front of the fire in the tapestry room, though she couldn't be entirely sure. Fortunately, she picked up the faint sound of claws skittering across the stone floor of the castle halls. Pairs of eyes began to glow in the distance, and the two dogs scampered loyally to their mistress' side on their sets of four giant paws.

"Hi, lads," she whispered, hushing them both as they sniffed at her and began whimpering in their ploy for attention. "Now, now, I need yer help. Ye'll have to come with me tonight."

Hastily, she pulled her father's tunic from behind her back, the one he had worn the day he had safely returned home. She hoped the two hounds would be able to pick up the scent of that elusive clan on which she planned on digging up more information. Using the veil of the night, it would work. It had to.

She allowed the two dogs to briefly sniff the fabric, and Seamus allowed a growl to rumble deep within his throat before trotting down the stairs leading to the great hall. Donnan pursued him, turning around and calling to Merida with an impatient bark.

The princess flinched, hoping she hadn't awakened anyone. She couldn't afford to be apprehended. Quickly, she retreated back to her bedside for a final time, grabbing a number of pillows and shoving them beneath the sheets, just in case anyone happened to pay her a visit in the middle of the night. She certainly wouldn't be there to answer them, however.

With a deep breath, she exited her bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind her. She opted not to lock her bedroom door; it would only cause suspicions to arise, namely from her mother. Merida hurried down the hallway in a rush, nearly tripping over her feet as she made her way down the flight of stairs. As she arrived on the main floor, she tucked her father's tunic into her satchel, exhaling in a steady breath.

Merida pulled the hood of her cloak over her head, catching a glimpse of Donnan with her sharp, determined, blue eyes. She hoisted the satchel she carried over her shoulder, slipping downstairs and into the kitchen from the great hall.

The castle was eerily silent, though that was how Merida believed it should be if she hoped to go through with her secret mission. Seamus' howl suddenly reverberated throughout the area, startling the princess in the process, and Merida quickly slipped out the door of the castle in order to provide a buffer to the dog's racket.

Her eyes fell upon Seamus, who was busy scampering about, his nose to the ground. Donnan threw back his head in a bellow, retreating to Merida's side only to have a final chance to pick up the scent before following Seamus into the dense glen.

"Wait, lads!" called Merida anxiously, hurrying to the stables where Angus was kept.

Merida could feel her heart practically beating out of her chest. In the midst of her adrenaline, she felt as though it may burst. Though wearing her cloak over her dress hindered her movement, it was more than worth it in order to stay warm enough on this certain frigid night.

Her faithful steed whinnied as she approached, glancing over his shoulder as his mistress saddled him, appearing to be inquiring as to why she was in such a tizzy and what she was possibly doing awake at this hour of the night.

"Don't ask questions, lad! We haven't a moment to lose, now." she pressed, and the stallion's ears twitched at Merida's anxious tone of voice.

Angus pounded his hoof on the ground, snorting in excitement as Merida hopped on to his back. She dug her heels into his sides with a swift yet firm kick, urging him into a gallop. The Clydesdale complied with the princess' demand. Merida firmly straddled Angus with her legs, and she felt his muscles rippling with anticipation as he fed off the energized vibes both Seamus and Donnan were emitting. The legs of the animals all pumped in near perfect unison, and Merida resolved to place all her trust in these three confidants of hers.

Seamus was growing quite old, but he still seemed to have as much energy and vigor as he ever did; the hound was often rumored to be part wolf. He was known to be rather intelligent, and his patience was renowned, as well.

It appeared as if Donnan often looked to Seamus for guidance when he was unsure. The younger dog was very brawny and loyal, and though he didn't appear to have as much wisdom as his elder, his heart was still true as ever.

And then there was Angus, easily Merida's best friend. This lad could guide her through even the toughest of times.

"I'm countin' on you three," Merida whispered nearly inaudibly, tightening her grip of the reins until her knuckles turned white.

Seamus took a sudden, sharp swerve, and Donnan followed suit. Angus mirrored their actions, leaping over a log that lay fallen in the middle of the path. Merida released a cry, bouncing furiously up and down in the saddle as her horse's hooves pounded against the ground. The princess tightened her thighs against Angus' sides, taking a moment's opportunity to yank the hood of her cloak farther over her head as a brisk, frigid wind howled in her face. The air stung her freckled face, nipping at her nose as her curls whipped in her face.

All of a sudden, Angus came to a screeching halt, rearing up on his hind legs and neighing skittishly. Merida's eyes darted to the small but crumbling cliff she appeared to be situated over, and she instantly gave Angus an abrupt order to back up several paces. The stallion tossed his head in the air, snorting indignantly.

"Easy, there, lad!" Merida pleaded, leaping from the horse's back in order to calm him. She grasped her hands around his muzzle, gazing into his dark and trusting eyes. "It's all goin' to be okay, but we need to keep movin' so we can..."

A pathetic whimpering arose from amongst the vicious gusts of wind, and Merida swiveled around, desperately trying to seek out the source of the sound.

Her heart instantly lurched; there, struggling to make his way up the muddy riverbank, was a helpless Seamus. His claws dug into the earth, to no avail, and Donnan scampered to and fro, whimpering in concern. Lightly, he nudged his nose against his companion's head, and Seamus glanced up at his junior, glassy-eyed.

"Seamus!" Merida cried, falling to her knees beside her dog. "Oh, lad, this is all my fault!" she lamented, tears rolling down her face. Seamus produced a soft bark, resting his head in his mistress' lap as she fondled his ears. His fuzzy, graying brows raised as he gazed into her eyes, assuring his lass not to fret. The princess did, anyhow, and she attempted to gather him in her arms, to no avail. His weight was too much for her, and he began to whine as he slid downwards. "Oh, come on, Seamus! You can do it... just a little more, that's right!"

Seamus' trembling body began to slowly make its ascent. With one giant paw, he gained leverage, aiding Merida in pulling him up the treacherous bank. The princess breathed a sigh of relief as he pulled himself up on to dry land. Merida threw her arms around his neck, whispering comforting phrases to him as his tail slowly wagged.

"There now, ye're alright..." she said gently, watching Donnan as he nuzzled his nearly fallen friend.

In an instant, Angus spooked, beginning to buck and thrash about. Merida quickly rose to her feet, loosing a terrified cry of his name. The stallion refused to be appeased, his ears bent backward and pressed flat against his head. Merida made a motion to grab the reins, just missing her chance as he tossed his head back and tore off through the glen, galloping in the opposite direction.

"_Angus!" _Merida shrieked, her voice straining.

Without any forethought, she pursued him, chasing him as fast as her legs could carry her. She faintly picked up the sound of Seamus and Donnan barking as they began to follow her, but Angus was already out of sight, having disappeared into the dense forest. She screamed his name once more, frantically hastening her strides.

The night air pierced her lungs, and she could quickly feel her muscles beginning to tire from she stress she was placing upon them, and in an instant, she tripped over the twigs and mangled brush, landing upon the cold ground.

At last, she succumbed to tears, releasing a squeak of her steed's name as she rose to her feet once more. Her body instantly protested, and she collapsed, shivering as exhaustion settled upon her. Faintly, she felt a tongue brush against her hand, and a cold snout press against her cheek. Despite her companions' attempts to revive their mistress, she fell unconscious, her breathing steady but slight.


	18. Chapter 18: Taking Action

Chapter Eighteen

* * *

The princess released a low groan as she came to, bringing a hand up to her face as her nose began to itch. Slowly, she opened her eyes, coming face to beak with a bug-eyed raven perched upon her chest. Numerous feathers danced in the air as the bird preened itself, and it glared at her maniacally for a moment before squawking shrilly in her face.

"Rise and shine!" it shrieked, and Merida screamed out of surprise, bolting upright in bed as a familiar chuckle filled the room.

"Ah, ye're awake, dearie." the voice cackled, growing closer. From the shadows, the infamous witch emerged, snapping her bony fingers and summoning her raven. The creature screeched, causing the princess to cry out once more. As the bird loyally retreated to his master's shoulder, the witch clicked her tongue.

"Oh, ye _are _a bit stirred up, aren't ye? Poor thing." the witch said, clicking her tongue.

"Wh-wha...? Where? Where am I?" Merida croaked, glancing about. Her eyes suddenly filled with an unmistakable fright. "Angus! Seamus! Donnan!" She made a motion to leap out of the cot she lay in, growing incredibly lightheaded as she succumbed to a case of vertigo.

"Shh! Ye've had a tryin' experience." the haggard old woman cautioned, restraining the young lass as she settled down in the bed once more. "Yer lads are all doin' well."

The witch gestured to the two sleeping dogs upon the floor, and then out the small window to the powerful stallion grazing outside. Merida sighed in relief as she allowed her head to plop down once more upon her pillow. If she weren't feeling so weary, she would inquire as to how such a tiny creature such as the witch could have managed to calm the muscular Clydesdale, but she most certainly was in no state of mind to touch upon that subject.

"How did ye find me?" she whispered in a weak voice, closing her eyes in her drowsy state of mind.

"Well, I was out seekin' ingredients for my latest spell," her savior muttered, gliding over to her cauldron and beginning to stir the contents, "and I just happened upon ye, out cold in the middle of a clearin'."

Now she remembered. Merida moaned and brought a hand to her forehead; her head was pounding. She had blacked out while chasing after Angus. Though, she was so incredibly relieved that her best friend was unharmed and safe. How long had she been unconscious, after all? What time of day was it? Oh, she had so many questions.

"How long have I been under?" inquired the princess, doing all she could to keep from yawning.

"_So _many _questions!" _scoffed the witch, taking a taste of her brew. She momentarily gagged, smacking her lips. "Urgh, needs some spices! Eh, laddie?"

"Gives it a _zing!" _croaked the raven, taking flight and retrieving a small vial with his talons. He returned to the witch, dropping the vial in her hands.

"Now, to answer yer query, _dearie, _ye slept soundly through the night."

Merida's eyes popped open, at last coming to the horrifying realization. She'd been away all night long! Oh, she could only imagine what worry her parents had been going through for the past hours. A search party would surely be sent looking for her after they found her absent and Angus missing from the stables.

At this thought, Merida slowly rose in bed, peeling back the covers. She placed her feet firmly upon the ground, plodding across the stone floor in her slippers. Seamus and Donnan stirred from where they lay, offering their master cordial barks as they began to faithfully trot after her.

"Er, um..." stammered the witch, capturing Merida's attention. The princess turned around, her weary, blue eyes gazing upon her elder.

"Aye?" she said quietly, leaning against the doorjamb for support as she slowly turned the knob. She felt dizzy, horrendously so.

"If ye'll be headin' on home, I should tell ye, well, if ye haven't already noticed..." She gestured at the the space around them. "I've taken up a new residence..." Merida narrowed her eyes, puzzled as to what exactly the witch was getting at. She produced a questioning sound, and the old woman elaborated, lowering her voice to a husky whisper. "I've got to lay low for a wee bit. Caused a bit of a rammy with an unsatisfied customer..." She cleared her throat as she finished off her confession. "B-but that's b'sides the point, isn't it dearie?"

It finally made sense, and the princess rolled her eyes, producing a soft whistle as she called for her dogs, who followed her out the door. Merida hesitated as she took her leave, peeking her head back through the crack.

"Thank ye," she said, smiling ever so slightly as the witch bowed her head.

As she turned back around and shut the door to the small cottage, Merida squinted as her eyes adjusted to the sunlight. It was an all-around gorgeous day, but the princess felt absolutely no urge to take advantage of it. Angus nickered quietly and approached her, pressing his nose to her forehead, puzzled as to why his master was so warm. The princess kissed his muzzle and proceeded to climb on to his back, grasping his mane.

Angus' ears twitched, and he subtly glanced knowingly at Seamus and Donnan as he began to walk. Naturally, the three animals instinctively knew their way home, even as their guardian fell into a delirious slumber upon the horse's back. It was now the time to take full responsibility regarding her safety and well-being.

* * *

Something in the distance caught the castle guards' attention from where they stood at the gate, and they began to whisper amongst themselves. Out of the group, a single gasp arose out of one of the men, and an order, anxious and frantic, sounded.

"Alert the king and queen! _Immediately!" _the man hollered gruffly, beginning to sprint toward the approaching Clydesdale, rider, and Scottish deerhounds, who had all been missing in action since the wee hours of morning.

Seconds later, the queen's voice rang throughout the vicinity, and the sound of her mother's brogue was the impetus for Merida to stir, raising her head ever so slightly and peeking through the curtain of curly hair that shielded her tired, blue eyes. Her father's terrified tone of voice soon joined that of the queen. Merida momentarily felt Angus begin to trot at the sight of familiar surroundings and the ruckus being caused by the two frantic monarchs, and the princess gave a nearly inaudible moan as she gripped his mane tighter, assuring she wouldn't take a tumble in her weakened and dreary state.

"Merida?! _Merida!" _screamed Elinor, overwhelmed with fear at the sight of the limp body of her darling daughter hunched over her horse.

As several of the guards gripped Angus' reins, the king hastily engulfed his precious daughter in his arms, hugging her tightly as the queen joined him in their reunion. He set the princess gently on her feet, scarcely able to form coherent words.

"Merida, oh, Merida, lass! Are ye alright, darlin'?" he pressed, catching the princess' fall as she lost her balance, her knees buckling.

"_Darling!" _Elinor cried in distress, caressing her daughter's face. "Oh, Merida, ye're burnin' up! Fergus, she's hot with fever!"

Merida faintly processed the voices of her parents, though she was in no state of mind to fully comprehend what they were saying. Before she knew it, she was being carried somewhere, producing a slight moan as her aching body was cradled in a strong grasp. She felt as if she were on fire; this time of year in the highlands was normally so frigid. Her fever was taking a toll on her.

After what seemed like hours, the princess sensed herself being placed in her bed, and she was tucked in beneath the covers with the utmost caution and care. Seconds later, she dropped into unconsciousness, her slumber plagued with unsettling nightmares.

* * *

"Fergus, dear, she's comin' to!" Elinor cried, breathing a sigh of relief as she caressed her daughter's freckled cheek. The queen smiled delightedly at the sight of Merida's azure eyes, and the monarch proceeded to shower her child's face with kisses.

"Hi, Mum," Merida chuckled rather weakly, grasping her mother's shoulders and pulling her down for a hug.

"Lass, don't ye ever scare us like that again! Ye nearly drove yer mum and me up the wall!" her father exclaimed, appearing at her bedside and toying with her curls. He offered her a loving grin, stroking his daughter's forehead as he crouched beside her bed.

"I'm sorry, Dad," Merida murmured apologetically, giggling as the king's mustache brushed against her cheek.

"_What _possessed ye to go wanderin' off in the middle of the night, Merida?" Elinor inquired, dabbing the princess' forehead with a dampened cloth. "Ye gave us all such a _fright."_

"I remember that I... I went out to go find that clan." she stated in a mumbled, causing gasps to arise simultaneously from each of her parents.

"What happened to ye out there, darlin'?!" Fergus pressed, squeezing her hand.

"I don't... know," Merida replied, closing her eyes in response to her exhaustion.

"We'll let ye get some sleep, darling," Elinor whispered, leaning in to kiss her daughter's forehead with motherly expertise.

"No, Elinor, I want to know what happened!" insisted the king, his rowdy tone causing Merida to stir once more.

"Oh, please, love-" the queen began, immediately being interrupted by her riled up husband.

"No! Merida, can ye remember _anythin'?" _he inquired anxiously, gazing maniacally at her daughter's emotionless visage.

"...I-I remember... that Angus ran off... it was if... somethin' was followin' us..." Merida murmured, at last succumbing to sleep.

Fergus' eyes reflected pure rage and flared with raw, animal instinct. "I knew it!" he grunted harshly under his breath, growling menacingly as he clenched his fists. "Those... no-good... worthless–"

"Fergus, darling, please!" Elinor pleaded, swiftly rising to her feet and giving him a gentle push by the shoulders, steadily leading him towards the door. "Calm yerself, dear!" The queen had made an alarming observation as of late: her husband's chances of undergoing a transformation appeared to be greatly increased whenever he allowed his foul emotions to get the best of him.

"I'm goin' back after 'em, Elinor! Ye can't stop me!" he shrieked, just before the queen managed to shut the door to their daughter's room, muffling her father's outburst and thereby leaving her in peace.

"Oh, I most certainly can!" his wife snapped, offering him a vicious glare. During the course of their marriage, Elinor had nearly lost her beloved more times than she cared to recall, and she shuddered at the thought of nearly losing him again. "There is _no _way I'm lettin' ye get away with this. I just got ye back, Fergus! I'm not takin' _another _chance with yer life!"

"Eli, I can take care of myself." he said firmly, his gaze softening at the sight of her distraught expression. He tenderly kissed her lips, teasing her in a way only he could. After a moment, he broke the kiss, chuckling at his wife's dreamy expression. "I know ye worry, but I can handle this. I'm goin' to punish whoever did this to our wee lass."

Elinor sighed and leaned back against the wall, burying her face helplessly in her hands. She simply didn't know what to do. She was aware that her husband was capable of most any feat, but he would most assuredly be targeted by that wicked Alistair, and knowing that villainous man, he would surely be able to expose and take advantage of her beloved's few weaknesses. Then again, their daughter had also clearly been made a victim; there was no doubt in Elinor's mind that the princess' experience the night before had something to do with that dastardly clan.

"Eli," his voice whispered lovingly, and in the midst of her inner thoughts, she sensed his powerful arms snake around her waist. Instantly, she gave him a push, determined not to allow him to get his way.

"Fergus, I'm in no mood for this." she stated firmly, lacing her fingers together in front of her face and sighing deeply.

"What's wrong, darlin'?" the king inquired softly, pressing his lips tenderly to her forehead.

"Everythin'," she sighed woefully, and her husband took her hands in his out of distress.

"What do ye mean, Elinor?" he pressed anxiously, inching closer to her as he gazed into her pure eyes.

The queen shook her head, brushing back tendrils of loose, brown hair. "All my life, I've always been so sure of what to do... but now, I just don't know."

"Hey, now," Fergus said gently, raising her delicate chin with his hand. "We'll get through this. We've been through tougher times than this, haven't we?" he reminded her, assuring her of his love for her as he stole another kiss. "If push comes to shove, we could always call on Mollie."

"Mollie?" Elinor murmured, furrowing her brow in suspicion. Oh, that was right. Her husband had once mentioned a "Mollie", now didn't he?

"I just know it's her. The bear I met in the glen... Mary is _Mollie."_

"And she's a _bear?" _the queen responded, entirely skeptical.

"Aye, she is... well, at times." her king said absentmindedly, recalling that mysterious woman whom Elinor only considered to be Alistair's sister – and that was a bad occupation to hold, in the queen's opinion.

"At... _times?" _Elinor said in a hushed tone, escaping from the spot where her husband had her pinned to the wall and beginning to make her way down the hallway. She glanced back over her shoulder, gesturing for the king to follow her. He readily obeyed. As they arrived at their room and sheltered themselves in the security within, assuring they would not be overheard, Elinor reiterated her previous utterance. "Now, what is this ye speak of?"

"I told ye, lass. Mary is Mollie, who happens to be a bear. I came across her in the glen, and she ended up tryin' to–" He instantly closed his mouth, hesitant to confess any more sordid details. Although, he had a feeling that his wife would find a way for him to spill what he knew.

"Tried to _what, _dear?" Elinor pressed, folding her arms and radiating a regal aura.

His face became ruddier than it already was. "W-well, Elinor, she... erm... ye know..." He nervously cleared his throat as his wife's stern expression morphed into one of disbelief, her mouth gaping as her amber eyes widened like saucers. "I-I was unable to control myself, but–"

"...a-and ye didn't tell me? _Me! _Yer _rightful _partner!" she exclaimed, lunging forward and grabbing on to him. "Oh, Fergus..." she whimpered, burying her face in the tartan fabric. "This can't be true!" her muffled voice moaned.

"Elinor, Elinor, listen to me." Fergus said calmly, stroking her hair. "Ye have to believe me when I tell ye that _nothin' _happened."

Elinor, though she still clung to him, glanced up, locking her eyes with his as she sniffed. "N-no?"

"Not a thing, lass. I ran away 's fast as I could, and then luckily I found ye_. _Well, _you _found _me, _I guess ye could say."

"Wh-why didn't ye tell me before?" Elinor inquired tearfully, though she was indescribably overjoyed at nothing had happened between her darling husband and that mysterious woman. The queen vowed to never leave her Fergus alone with that lass. She would refuse to allow it.

"I tried to, lass. I guess I just didn't have the heart to worry ye any more than ye have been." he explained, offering her a sincere, loving smile. "I really am sorry, m'dear. Can ye manage to find a reason in that bonnie heart of yers to forgive me?" he purred charmingly, raising his brows as his mustache lifted with a grin.

"I'm goin' to have to mull it over, Fergus." she said sternly, her face brightening with a smile as her husband donned a horrified expression. "Och, of course I can, my love." Fergus chuckled happily as his wife pulled him down in order to place a brief kiss upon his lips. He frowned and attempted to steal another kiss, entirely unsatisfied with the previous affection he had received. "Now, then, we must discuss what we're goin' to do about – Fergus!" She gasped as her husband cheekily glided his hands downward. "This is no time for _that, _dear. We have to do somethin' about that clan."

"I couldn't agree more, Eli. I'll go and find 'im right now and finish what I started in the first place."

"Ye most certainly will _not," _she ordered authoritatively, "but I do want to speak with ye. As the king and queen, you and I make decisions together."

"What do ye s'pose we do, darlin'?" he asked of her, sitting down upon their bed and gazing intently up at his queen.

"We definitely can't afford to do anythin' rash." Elinor reasoned, knowing her daughter's precious life, along with her husband's, could be at stake.

The king and queen would have to think carefully and thoroughly of what their course of action would be, as lives could depend on the choice they made. As Elinor pondered, she couldn't help but allow the subject of Mary to sneak into her thoughts. If that lass was also cursed with a spell and afflicted in the same way, she could perhaps be a source of advice, Elinor reasoned. And, if Mary had come across Fergus, perhaps she knew her way around the highlands – around areas that even the king had yet to delve into. But how could the queen be sure that the woman could be trusted? In retrospect, she _had _spared her love's life, and that was truly all the convincing that the queen needed. Mary had repaid her debt for inflicting such suffering upon the royal family.

"Love?" a voice murmured, releasing Elinor from her deep thoughts.

She locked eyes with her beloved, and she could only hope that her king would agree with her resolve. Queen Elinor truly believed it was there only hope, even if it was a gamble.


End file.
